Entrapment
by Kovitlac
Summary: The decades-long feud against the Covenent is all but ended. Yet eleven years after the conclusion of Halo 3, the Chief finds himself up against a new and unexpected enemy... My first Halo story. Please read and review.
1. Prologue

Lord Hood's hand grasped the larger alien one in a shake

Lord Hood's hand grasped the larger alien one in a shake. "You have my thanks…for sticking by him until the end." He eyes lowered to his formerly polished black shoes, now covered with dust and grime. "Hard to believe he's dead…" The much taller Elite raised his own eyes to the ship under his command, which was hovering just above the atmosphere. A drop ship had been dispatched and was beginning its descent.

"Were it so easy."

Lord Hood returned to the crashed half of the _Forward Unto Dawn_, the permanent monument dedicated to each and every man and woman who had died during the fight against the Covenant and the Flood. Pictures of those who had given their very existence to end the war covered the structure, but to him one area in particular stood out. All that was left of the man who had possibly given more then anyone else was a few scratches carved into the wielded steel - number _117_ - and his Navy insignia patch. Lord Hood rested his hand against the scratches and involuntarily it hand clutched into a fist. The Chief had survived Hell, not once but multiple times, just to fall short at the end. And Cortana. And Johnson. And Miranda…

No other lives would be taken. But their survival had come at an almost unbearable cost.

The Admiral snapped a sharp salute to the monument and held it as the sun set behind the structure, leaving only a black silhouette in its place.

The Arbiter had returned to the Shadow of Intent where Rtas 'Vadum was waiting. The two exchanged crisp nods. The trip back to their home world would take four months at least, most of which would be spent reflecting on the last several days. Specifically his betrayal to the Prophets, or rather, their betrayal to his species, and how he and the human warrior had fought side by side. The Arbiter clicked his lower mandibles and settled back into the commander's chair.

"Take us home."


	2. Entrapment Ch 1

"Chief

"Chief? Chief, wake up…!"

John flinched at the loud voice in his head. He slapped a new cartridge into his MA5B assault rifle, took a deep breath and dove from cover, shooting as he ran. His finger never left the trigger as his bullets pounded into the raw hide of the nine foot tall Brute. The huge alien bellowed a warning and raised his plasma rifle-

"_Chief_!"

-to shoot. A final burst of rounds from the assault rifle finished the alien off. The Chief grabbed at his helmet as the view of battle-torn landscape of New Mombasa dissolved around him. He felt a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach, forcing his seven foot tall encased armor frame to nearly double over. He braced against the butt of his rifle, the front end of it jammed against the ground. The Chief reached for and primed a frag grenade. If they wanted to come, he'd take on the bastards with or without his rifle…

"Chief, wake up…" The voice was noticeably calmer now. John opened his eyes, catching sight of the rising lid of the cryo chamber he'd been stored in…how long ago? Hours? Days? Years were even more likely.

The lid rose to its full height. The Master Chief sat up, and a split second later he regretted the movement. Chemical burns covered his body, a direct result of being cryogenically frozen with his armor intact. Not normally a good idea, but it wasn't as though he'd had any alternative at the time.

"Cortana? Where are we?" His voice sounded rough…raw. He could tell he hadn't used it in some time.

The construct's smooth, female voice felt comfortingly familiar through the speakers in the cryo tube. "We've been tagged. The beacon I dropped has been answered. But this ship is only half-functional. I can't tell you anything more."

John flexed his sore muscles and lifted himself up and out of the long, cylindrical tube. His body protested but the Chief pushed the pain out of his mind. He had long since learned how to ignore it and concentrate on his objective, whatever it might be. He immediately felt the lack of gravity in the ship, the _Forward Unto Dawn_, and his body lifted up. He pressed his gloved hand against the headboard and rotated himself around. Through the shield covering his face, which gave everything sort of a dull, amber hue, he caught sight of Cortana's holographic image flicker to life above the room's holotank panel. Her slender pink form held a faint purple-ish hue, and a flood of symbols scrolled up and down her flickering figure. John braced carefully against the bulkhead. One question was burning in his mind.

"Cortana…how long have we been drifting?" The AI regarded the Spartan solemnly, shifting her virtual 'weight' to her other hip.

"Eleven years, Chief. It's been eleven years." The Chief closed his eyes inside his helmet. They had won, right? Installation 00 had been destroyed, and the Ark along with it. It was doubtful that the entire Flood species had been eliminated during the assault, but unless the surviving Covenant searched for and found a new Halo, there was little chance of the Flood spreading any further. And the Elites would not let that happen.

There was something else, as well. A smart AI's lifespan was, on average, a period of only seven years. After that they fell into a rampant state, becoming a danger to themselves and others. That was the state the Chief believed Guilty Spark had been in when the artificial intelligence betrayed the Chief on and then killed Sergeant Johnson. John felt a pang of regret upon recalling the Sergeant's death, but not regarding the sacrifice Johnson had made. Millions were saved because of what he did. The Chief hoped that he could one day become the soldier that Johnson had been. Still, it came as somewhat of a shock to learn that all that had taken place eleven years ago. Which brought him back to Cortana.

"Cortana, how is it that-"

"I'm still here?" The AI spread her arms, palms upward, and gave a quirky smile. "After you went into cryo, I shut down all my own nonessential systems and went into hibernation mode. The results were…better then I could have hoped for… I wouldn't be here otherwise, Chief."

John nodded once. It was much like the effect that traveling through had done to him. Despite his numerical age of fifty-two years, because of the effect of slipspace drastically slowing the aging process, physically he was only in his early thirties. Considering that he had been in cryo the last eleven years, he physically had not changed at all.

Cortana's voice interrupted the Chief's thoughts. "Chief, whoever has found us is attempting to hail our ship. Unfortunately, I don't have the means to properly receive that message and send another one back." Her semi-transparent holographic form flashed a worried green hue. "We'll know if they attempt to-"

A dull thud resounded throughout the shattered hull of what remained of the _Forward Unto Dawn_. The Master Chief braced his heels against the bulkhead and gave a small push, enough force to propel him over to the panel of Cortana's holotank. He brought himself to a stop by pressing his palms against the edge.

"It's good to see you again, John." Cortana said. Moments later her holographic form disappeared. The small rectangular chip which consisted of Cortana and all the information she carried ejected itself from the tank, which John promptly took. He reached his hand back over his head, sliding the tiny chip into the slot at the back of his helmet. He felt the very familiar icy coldness penetrate his mind, then just as quickly withdraw. He could feel Cortana's interaction between his mind and the suit, and he was pleased to have her back.

"It's good to see you, too."

A second thud echoed the first. John maneuvered himself through the empty gray passageway toward the stern of the ship. Several meters down and after a turn to the right, John found where the ship had been severed in half.

"Do we know if the Arbiter made it?"

"No… The portal collapsed, cutting the ship in two. We know the Arbiter made it through, but…there's no guarantee that he reached Earth. And even if he did, they have no reason to believe that we're alive. In fact Chief, they probably don't."

The Chief nodded, understanding. His muscles protested as he scaled down the side of the corridor to where the ship had been severed. Steel beams stuck out at radical angles, having formerly been bonding together the 6ft plating that made up the exterior of the ship. John grabbed the tail-end of free-float cable, taking a minute to tie it tightly around his torso, just in case he lost his anchor. He came as close to the edge as possible, peering outward into the reaches of space. There was nothing in sight but stars. Hundreds of them. He craned his neck upward and to the right, attempting to see what was boarding them.

"Cortana?"

"Boarding is nearly complete. Other then that, nothing. Whoever is up there should emerge soon." The Chief nodded.

"Then I'll be there to meet them."


	3. Entrapment Ch 2

The Chief and Cortana returned to the room with the holotank and the cryo chamber

The Chief and Cortana returned to the room with the holotank and the cryo chamber.

"Boarding is nearly complete. No more attempts have been made to hail us." John nodded and maneuvered himself down a second passageway, toward the boarding docks. Coming across a rack containing an assortment of weapons, the Chief managed to grab hold of the top part of the rack, bracing his feet against the wall. He took a combination he'd done well with in the past – an M6D pistol and a MA5B assault rifle.

"What, no rocket launcher?"

"I see you've at least retained your sense of humor over the years."

"Something's got to keep you from falling asleep on your feet." She replied. John made sure each weapon was loaded before he moved onto two cases of grenades lying parallel to each other on the floor, each marked with the type of grenade it stocked. He took two of each, plasma and fragmentation, before again pushing off with his legs and maneuvering further down the passageway. It was at the end that he found the loading docks. The door to docking bay three was being cut through from the outside, sparks flying in every which direction. The Chief braced himself against the wall just around the corner that led back out into the passageway. Raising the M6D, he kept it firmly trained on the dock entrance by peering intently through the scope, his gloved finger resting on the trigger.

The airlock released a loud hissing noise and the doors parted. John's grip on the wall tightened, keeping him firmly in place, despite the lack of gravity in the ship.

"Not detecting any life forms within the – wait." Cortana whispered through his helmet speakers. On his radar, the Chief saw first one blip, then two small red dots, indicating movement from inside the boarding dock. His finger tensed against the trigger…then relaxed as a distinctly human hand appeared and grabbed onto the edge of the door frame. A relatively short man with sandy brown hair and pale skin pulled himself into the room. He wore an off-white pressure-concealed suit, letting him operate in the zero-gee environment. He was quick to raise his hands when he spotted the Chief to the left, an action which nearly sent the young man spinning. John briefly showed him his hand, palm facing outward, a gesture of 'hold on,' before lowering the pistol.

The man lowered his hands, letting himself again grasp the doorway. "A Spartan? No way. It couldn't be…" He appeared flustered. The Chief was quick to understand. It'd been eleven years since his disappearance. This man had most likely never even seen a Spartan before. John clipped the catch on his pistol to the armor that covered his upper thigh. The suit the man wore showed no indication of his rank or insignia. There was a chance he was simply a crew member to whatever ship had boarded them.

"Who's in command?"

"C-Captain Krenald. Sir." The man was getting over his shock. He looked at the seven foot tall Spartan with an expression of disbelief. "We weren't expecting to find anyone on board."

"Understandable enough." Cortana spoke into the Chief's ear. The _Forward Unto Dawn_ had been cut in half and was completely un-flyable in its current state. They had most likely simply boarded it to look for any usable supplies, or perhaps they figured the scrap metal would come in handy. The Chief nodded to the man before giving himself a push away from the wall, floating over toward the docking bay.

"You can call me Davis." The young man spoke up, moving back inside. He gave the Chief a weary grin as the Chief followed. "Welcome to the _Untold Truth_. Technical crewie ID 437719-558, at your service." He maneuvered himself over to a set of air-tight doors, grasping a small console on the right-hand right. He pulled a switch and the second set of doors hissed closed behind them, sealing off what remained of the _Forward on to Dawn_. The compartment quickly re-pressurized, providing both gravity and oxygen. Davis stripped off his suit and hung it neatly in an open locker.

"Feel free to remove your armor if you like, Sir."

"I'm fine." Taking off his advanced MJOLNIR armor was no easy task. Often it took a team of specialized technicians to get it put properly into place. The Chief followed the crew member out of the pressurized chamber and through a series of cargo holds. From what he could see, the ship was a cargo transporter, not necessarily equipped for battle.

"Cortana?" He asked on a private channel.

"I have no schematics for this vessel" She replied, sounding vaguely puzzled. "It must have been put into service only recently." Davis and the Chief stepped into an elevator. The panel inside was unlike one the Chief had ever seen. It was covered with buttons, many more then how many floors there could possibly be.

Davis's eyes flickered in the Chief's direction. "Newly put into service. Fancy little gizmo, huh?" He pressed one of the uppermost buttons. The doors slid closed and the lift began to rise. "It can take you pretty much anywhere on the ship. Not just up or down. They have yet to program it to stop at my room, though." He cracked a boyish grin. The Chief's gaze drifted toward the transparent walls of the lift, watching the floors pass as they rose higher. This wasn't a very large craft (being nothing but a cargo vessel), and soon they were moving not up, but sideways along a track. After another several seconds the lift came to a quick halt, with the squealing sound of metal on metal. The doors slid apart and the crew member hopped out.

"It's new. We have yet to really break it in." He shrugged his slightly narrow shoulders. "Come on. Captain's on the bridge." He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder to indicate the direction. John nodded and let the crew member lead the way.

On the bridge stood an older man, in his late forties or so, wearing the crisp, white uniform of a high-ranking Navy officer. The Chief automatically saluted, even though the captain was facing away from him. Davis immediately struck his own salute as well.

"Captain! You'll never believe what was on the-"

The older man turned to face them. The Chief could see his eyes widen behind a pair of rounded glasses. "A Spartan?" He squinted. "…Chief?" It was only at that point that he realized the Spartan was still saluting, and he returning it. "At ease, son… Let's go where we can talk." He dismissed the crew member with a distracted nod in his direction and bade the Chief to follow him. John took one last glance around the bridge and followed the Captain out.


	4. Entrapment Ch 3

"You have to understand, son

"You have to understand, son. Everyone believes you to have died eleven years ago."

The Chief nodded his head slowly. The two sat in the cramped officer's quarters near the stern of the cargo vessel. The room was not the spotless, organized affair the Chief had expected. It was actually quite the opposite: Crumpled white styrofoam cups sporting brownish coffee stains lay scattered on the countertop. The remains of one officer's lunch sat on a paper plate on top of the microwave unit. The room was, over all, sloppy and unkempt, much to John's general displeasure.

Captain Krenald folded his hands, resting them on the circular table that separated him from the surviving Spartan. His grey eyes rested on the Chief's amber faceplate. Many soldiers had found the lack of visible eyes through the Spartan's face armor to be disconcerting, but the Captain didn't find himself the least bit bothered by it.

"I understand that a lot of time has passed." The Spartan said slowly, sitting completely still, his posture perfect. "And that others might find it difficult to believe…" _He even sits at attention…_Captain Krenald thought, faintly amused. _And after eleven years in the freezer, to boot…_He studied the Chief intently.

"Indeed they would. But this complicates everything."

"Sir?"

The Captain abruptly stood. The Chief began to follow suit but the Navy officer halted him with a simple hand gesture, freezing him in place.

"You cannot reveal that you are alive to anyone outside of this vessel." He faced away from the Chief, hands behind his back, chin raised. The Chief was caught off-guard by this order.

"With all due respect-"

"Do you understand?" The Captain interrupted him, his tone suddenly icy. He turned to face the Spartan, eyes narrowed, thin lips pursed tightly together. "Master Chief?"

"Yes Sir. Understood."

--

"So what was _that_ all about?"

"What?"

"What do you mean, what?" If she had been human, or at least had her human form at the moment, Cortana would have rolled her eyes in frustration. "Don't give me that."

The two were residing in the stateroom assigned to John for the trip back to the Sol system. Captain Krenald had ordered to his crew that the Spartan not be disturbed. Taking advantage of the unexpected privacy, John had removed Cortana's chip from its slot before taking off his helmet and placing it on the tiny nightstand beside the twin-sized bed. He crossed the room and reinserted the tiny chip into a miniaturized holotank on the equally tiny desk. Cortana's usual form appeared a moment later, her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

John sighed, resting his hands against the desk. "If you are referring to the Captain's order, you heard that same thing I did. I can't disobey it."

"It doesn't make any sense." She snapped.

"It's still an order!" Cortana narrowed her eyes at him, her avatar displaying the overall look of 'peeved'. John sat back onto the bed, deciding to ignore the obvious creaking of the furniture under the weight of his heavy armor. He pressed his fingers to his temples. He never raised his voice to Cortana like that, although she had done it to him a small number of times. He was a UNSC soldier, for crying out loud; trained to stay calm and keep his temper in check at all times. And here he had just lost it. He was behaving like a civilian!

"I'm sorry…Cortana."

The AI uncrossed her arms, the scowl she wore disappearing. "Don't be." She gave a casual flip of her hand and a shrug of her slender shoulders. "You're right. We do have to follow orders."

Still, Cortana was right. The orders he had received from the Captain were indeed puzzling. There was no logical explanation for wanting to keep the Chief's survival a secret. At least none that he could think of.

John realized that he was treading on dangerous ground. If to remain secret was the Captain's order, he had to simply accept it and move on. Mental speculation was a fine exorcise, and an encouraged one at that. But this particular line of thinking could only lead to someplace he did not want to go. Instead, John sat back and slowly began removing the individual components that made up his MJOLNIR armor. Cortana stood on the small holographic display, watching his progress.

"That can't be easy to take off."

"You know it's not. You know everything about this suit." He paused after removing one of his armored boots and looked at her.

"In fact, you've watched me remove it several times."

A coy look crossed over Cortana's face. "Just trying to make conversation. You're so touchy." The Chief threw her a dry look and didn't bother to respond. Once every piece of armor was carefully removed, he peeled back the tough, matte black alloy that encased his entire body up to his neck, exposing the white tank top he wore and tan cargo pants. The suit's technicians had always advised that the Spartans wear as light clothes as possible under the armor. The whole process took no less then forty minutes in its entirety. Finished, John kneeled down to set the armor carefully on the floor beside the bed. Pausing to look over it, he realized for the first time just how bad a shape his armor was in. Due to prolonged exposure to a mixture of dust and the elements, his once reflective olive green suit was now a dull brown. Scratches covered the entire surface of the suit, and there was one particularly large dent in the armor that protected his upper abs. The Chief sighed, shaking his head and running a hand through his shortly-cropped brown hair. His suit would need to be repaired first thing upon returning to Sol.

The Spartan stood back up, glancing briefly at the clock built into the headboard. Having had absolutely no concept of time while on the _Forward Unto Dawn_, he was surprised to learn that it was only 15:27. "I'll be back by 16:00." He told Cortana, turning away from her and grasping the doorknob in his palm. "Don't wait up for me."

"And just where do you think you're going? Without me, I might add?"

A weary smile just barely glimpsed the Master Chief's face. "To shower. You've forgotten: it's been eleven years."


	5. Entrapment Ch 4

John made his way to the public showers down the main passageway that made up the vein of the crew quarters

John made his way to the public showers down the main passageway that made up the vein of the crew quarters. To call it unused was an understatement – there were no crew personnel in sight. He never expected the small cargo vessel to be bustling with activity, especially in a destination this remote. But during the walk to the showers he saw not another soul. It was also eerily quiet, the only sound was the tap of his shoes on the tile floor.

The Master Chief arrived at the showers within moments and stepped in to the locker room. As he had come to expect, there was not a single person present. John headed to the back of the surprisingly large room, and sat down on the worn metal bench that ran between the first two rows of lockers. Leaning forward he found that the locker in front of him was open and empty.

Cortana had always teased him about it, but John was a uniquely private individual, even among the notoriously quiet Spartans. He'd never really spent any time with the other soldiers outside his own elite group. Not that he had seen any of his team since after the destruction of Installation 04. He didn't even know if Linda, Fred, Will or Kelly were still alive.

Four names. That was all that remained out of the thirty-two Spartans under his command. John pressed his hands against his forehead, elbows on his knees. At least the Human-Covenant War was over. None of his Spartans had died in vain.

The Chief rose to his feet. He grabbed a towel from the pile of clean ones near the showers and quickly undressed. Turning on the water, he waited for it to reach a more comfortable temperature before sliding in. As concerned as he was about his remaining Spartans, he couldn't help but be thankful for small blessings. He hadn't had a warm shower for as long as he could remember, since before he had been stationed on the _Cairo_ and deployed to Installation 05, or Delta Halo. John took the time to meticulously clean his hair, rubbing the tips of his fingers against his scalp. He braced his palms against the tile wall of the shower, closing his eyes and letting the water run freely over his face. Like the rest of the vessel, the shower was small and cramped, worn and used. Grime clung to the edges of the floor and the frosted glass doors looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years.

John opened his eyes. Something wasn't adding up.

--

Cortana had a lot of time to herself to think.

Being what her human makers termed a 'smart' AI, Cortana could handle processing more information at once then even the most advanced stationary computers to date. In the time since the Chief had left, she had entered herself into the ship onboard computer and was sucking up information like a sponge. Everywhere she went she was careful to erase her digital footprint, leaving not a trace of her presence. For a reason she was not entirely sure of, she did not want the humans aboard the _Untold Truth_ to be aware that she was still functioning way past the average lifespan of an AI. That was most likely why no one had mentioned her so far. But that could change.

Cortana found herself looking over the history logs of the _Untold Truth_. Just as she had surmised, it had indeed gone into service within the last eleven years; 2560, to be exact. Four years ago. And…according to the logs, it had been patrolling the outer rim of what appeared to be the Vex System ever since. Cortana paused for a full second, comprehending this new information. Why would the UNSC send a simple cargo ship with minimal weapons systems to patrol such a remote area? That was a question that Cortana was determined to have answer to. Luckily, the _Untold Truth_ was so new it hadn't had a ship-board AI installed as of yet. Its size and current locale probably placed it near the bottom of the waiting list. Cruisers and destroyers were generally placed higher up, needing advanced AIs to navigate slipspace jumps and calculate firing solutions. The Captain of the _Untold Truth_ could do this too, but an AI was needed to do it in the speed required during a battle.

Cortana saved the files, determined to look through them more thoroughly later on. She located one simply titled 'crew' and peered inside. According to logs, this entire vessel was manned by a crew of only nine, plus the Captain. That included the bridge crew. Cortana did some quick memory calculations and discovered that the normal crew size for this class of ship was no less then twenty-two.

So basically a severely under-crewed cargo vessel was patrolling the rim of a nearly unheard-of sector of space.

Just what was going on, here?

--

John slammed the locker door shut, throwing the towel over his shoulder. He took one last look around the large locker room before heading back out into the hallway. He moved at a quick pace, his eyes trained on the floor, wanting to get back and discuss this revelation with Cortana as soon as possible. The Chief raised his head when he heard the muted tap of standard-issue Marine boots on the tile. A young man with blond hair longer then regulations allowed was hurrying in his direction, shooting glances back over his shoulder. John stopped.

"Watch where you're going, soldier."

The Marine's eyes darted ahead, widening as they landed on the Spartan. He came to a quick stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. The Chief's words had been firm, but not aggressive. Still, the young Marine quickly side-stepped the nearly seven-foot-tall Spartan, stammering apologies as he hurried away. John watched him go. He was used to his fellow soldiers acting differently around him. They tended to see the Spartans as aggressive, killing automatons, dangerous to be around, and not just for the enemy.

Briefly shaking his head, the Chief returned his attention to the situation at hand. His hand went to the small switch outside of his stateroom and the door slid open. John moved inside and closed it behind him.

"Cortana, something is wrong."

The AI's holographic image appeared on the holotank. Her arms were crossed and her lips were pursed together.

"Something _is_ wrong. Chief, this vessel is severely under-manned, with very little weapons systems and patrolling a non-UNSC-controlled area of space." She conjured up a small grid, displaying the read-outs she had discovered earlier.

"Look for yourself." The Chief believed her but moved closer to look at the numbers for himself. Sure enough, the _Untold Truth_ had a crew of only nine.

"That's not all." He said quietly. "This ship is new, but everything looks like it's been in use for decades." Cortana opened her mouth to reply, but a hard knock on the door drew both their attentions elsewhere. The voice of the young Marine the Chief had encountered in the passageway came muffled through the door.

"Chief! Captain wants you suited up and on the bridge ASAP! We've got Covenant!!"


	6. Entrapment Ch 5

After quickly donning his armor and transferring Cortana back to the suit, the Master Chief followed the Marine back to the bridge. Captain Krenald was there waiting, one hand clenched into a fist as he stared at a display panel showing the view from the aft camera. John snapped a salute, which the Captain did not notice, much less return. John slowly lowered his arm.

"Chief, we got a Covenant destroyer approaching on our six. Computers show two large frigates are inbound on our position." The Captain narrowed his eyes at the screen. "Lieutenant, swing us around three-sixty degrees. I want to face those Covenant bastards head-on."

The Lieutenant, a man in his late thirties sporting the name Porter on his ID patch, punched in the coordinates. The ship began to rotate around to face the intruder. John watched the screen intently. Something seemed…wrong…

"Damn!" The Captain erupted angrily. "They've jammed what weapons systems we have!" He brought his hand up to the slight gray stubble he had on his chin. "Chief, I need you." He turned around, hands now behind his back.

"I have one Longsword fighter stowed in the forward hanger. I need you to engage that ship; draw his attention away from us long enough to get our weapons back online!"

"Chief, don't-"

Cortana's voice broke the Chief's concentration. He ignored her. "In all honesty Captain, a Longsword will be useless against a Covenant cruiser." The craft was used most often against small, individual Covenant fighters. Not their giant destroyers. He was surprised by the Captain's suggestion.

"You've done it before. Or have you forgotten?..." The Chief had not forgotten. The captain was referring to the Battle of Chi Ceti, where Captain Wallace had punched a hole in a Covenant frigate using a Shiva warhead, allowing John, Kelly and Sam to board the alien vessel and destroy it from the inside. The Chief remembered that battle for two very specific reasons. One, because that was the first time any of his Spartans had engaged the Covenant. But most importantly, John remembered it because that was the first time he had lost any member of his team. Sam's suit had become breached during the fight, and he stayed behind to detonate a nuclear warhead. He was the first Spartan casualty of the Human-Covenant War.

"But Sir, you don't have the weapons capability to fire on that ship."

Captain Krenald glowered at the Master Chief. "That is a direct order, Chief. I want you on the ship and out of my hanger!" He stepped closer to John. Despite being nearly a foot shorter then the Spartan, he still managed to glare right into his eyes. "Do you understand me?..." John's training took over and he snapped a sharp salute.

"Sir, YES, Sir!"

--

"Chief, you have to listen-"

"Cortana, don't."

"Something is wrong!"

John couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was, indeed, wrong. And his instinct had kept him alive dozens of times where he otherwise would have perished. But he couldn't disobey a direct order. Not one that came from a Captain. His training would not allow it.

"Chief, listen to me!"

John ran down the passageway at top speed, roughly 32mph with his MJOLNIR armor. He slid around a corner and spotted the Longsword Interceptor just up ahead. Save for what appeared to be a battered Pelican off to the far right and a small mountain of supplies, the hanger was entirely empty. The Chief ran past the smaller ship. For a second he wished the rest of his Spartans had his back, but he quickly banished the thought. I'd worked alone often enough.

"Chief, don't get in that-"

Too late. John was already up the ramp and into the bird. He made his way to the forward section of the Longsword, where the tiny cockpit was located. Strapping himself in before the controls, closed the ramp and prepared to take off. Still, that video nagged at him…

The small ship lifted steadily into the air. The Chief rotated it around to face the hanger doors. They began to open. He punched the thrusters-

"John!!"

-and shot out of the hanger bay.

--

"Captain, he's clear of the hanger." Lt. Porter spoke steadily. Captain Krenald stepped forward to the view screen, eyes landing on the ship as he exited the hanger.

"Good. Fire on the target when ready."


	7. Entrapment Ch 6

"Evasive maneuvers

"Evasive maneuvers!"

"Not. Now."

"Damnit, Chief!"

John's gaze immediately shot toward the display screen. To his astonishment, there was…nothing. No Covenant ship. No frigates. Nothing but the blackness of empty space.

"What…?" He whispered.

"Don't tell me you didn't recognize that footage!" A mini-feed appeared in the right-hand corner of John's heads-up-display. It played the video footage he and Cortana had witnessed a few minutes ago on the bridge. John felt the same strange feeling come over him watching the feed the second time.

"Taking place there, Chief, is the Battle of Chi Ceti." John watched the video play, soon coming to the realization that Cortana was right. He hadn't been on the bridge when that particular battle had taken place, which had been before his arrival on Installation 04. But he recalled watching the recording afterward.

"But then why-"

"Chief, they tricked you." John felt an icy feeling stir in the pit of his stomach. He hit another control, changing the view screen to display the _Untold Truth_, which was slowly rotating to face them head on. Swallowing, the Master Chief punched a series of commands in to the Longsword computer.

"They're preparing to fire!" Cortana warned. But John was already moving. Just as a series of missiles streaked toward the Interceptor, the smaller ship swung to port, managing to evade the attack. The Chief quickly overcame his shock at being attacked by his own people and fired the thrusters once more. He leveled the Longsword, aiming directly toward the cruiser.

"You're flying _towards_ it??"

"Just making a smaller target." The Longsword shot over the _Untold Truth_. The larger ship began to turn. The Chief watched it via the aft camera as he studied his options. The _Untold Truth_ was larger, carried weapons the Longsword did not, and was faster. The only advantage the Chief had was better maneuverability due to the Longsword's smaller size. Taking that into consideration, John leveled the ship off once more, waiting for the larger _Untold Truth_ to finish its turn.

"You can't go on with this much longer." Cortana cut in.

"So what would you suggest that I do?"

"Insert me into the shipboard computer." Silence.

"No."

"I can fly this bird better then you can, Chief."

"If we get hit the computer could be destroyed. I am not risking you." A small picture of what appeared to be a land-based planet replaced the recycled video feed. The image slowly rotated, revealing the planet to be roughly sixty percent covered by Covenant plasma.

"The planet Sore. Partially glassed by the Covenant in the year 5231. Sources indicate it may have been used by the Covenant as a sort of base, although to what extent is still unknown. Alien forces left the planet soon after the Human/Covenant War ended."

The Spartan navigated the Longsword into a wide arc around the _Untold Truth_. He frowned as a small flashing red light alerted him that the thrusters were running low. "Just how do you know this?"

The image stopped rotating. Cortana's reply was simple. "I accessed the shipboard computer." Seeing John beginning to argue, she quickly countered, "there was no other AI present in the system. And I left no trace. I guarantee it, Chief."

The Chief didn't like the idea of transferring Cortana to the computer. They could still communicate via the computer speakers, but if it took a direct or near-enough hit, Cortana would likely be damaged beyond repair. But she was right. They had the best chance of out-maneuvering the _Untold Truth_ and landing on Sore if she piloted. Unhappy at this conclusion, John reached to the back of his helmet and removed the chip.

"Thank you." Cortana said softly before the communications link was cut. John inserted her into the computer drive. A moment later her form appeared above the holographic panel.

"Hang on." The Longsword lurched to starboard. The Chief braced against the control panel. Cortana guided the ship into a second arc before launching into a steep dive toward the planet. Behind them, the _Untold Truth_ fired a second salvo of missiles, headed straight for the Longsword. A siren blared as the computer detected the missiles on a collision course with the ship. The Chief gripped the panel tightly as Cortana fired the emergency thrusters in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding the first two shots. The third one, however, sliced into the right wing of the Interceptor, forcing the small ship into a tailspin.

"Cortana!"

"Just hold on!" Through the forward window, John spotted a small flicker of flame against the dark grey steel that made up the frame of the ship.

"Cortana-"

"I see it." She drained the rest of their emergency thrusters as the careened toward the planet.

"Once we enter the atmosphere, we should be-"A fourth well-guided missile struck the stern, cutting communications off permanently. John slammed his fist against the switch on the holo-panel, ejecting the AI. He jammed it into the slot in the back of his helmet before grabbing hold of the ship controls. An explosion went off in the rear end of the ship, causing the entire vessel to shudder violently, and the Master Chief's ears to ring. Through the window he saw that they were through the planet's atmosphere, and rushing towards the ground. Feeling a sudden rush of wind against the sensors of his suit, he looked back to discover that the rear wall of the small vessel had been torn away, revealing grey sky. Meanwhile the fire on the front end of the ship had spread to the side. John realized they would never survive if the ship exploded on impact.

Coming to a grim decision, he left the pilot's chair and started toward the back, palms braced against the sides of the short corridor for balance. Before he reached the end, however, a second explosion shook the Longsword. John smashed hard against the port side of the ship, loosing all consciousness.

--

"The target has entered the atmosphere." Lieutenant Porter reported grimly. Captain Krenald gazed over the Lt's shoulder at his computer screen.

"So I see…"

"Captain?"

He studied the screen a moment before giving a slight smile. "Let our boys know the target has reached planet-side. They'll deal with him."


	8. Entrapment Ch 7

Cortana watched helpless as the Chief, her Chief, lay unconscious meters away from the burning wreckage that had been the Longsword

Cortana watched helplessly as the Chief, _her_ Chief, lay unconscious meters away from the burning wreckage that had been the Longsword. His MJOLNIR armor burned hot from their rapid decent through the atmosphere. Thankfully, the gel layer underneath would keep his body temperature at the normal ninety-eight point two degrees Fahrenheit. She had administered a dose of adrenaline six minutes ago via an entry port in the suit, but the Spartan had yet to stir. Cortana rechecked his vital signs, finding his heart rate to be only slightly more elevated then it had been earlier.

"Come on, Chief." She whispered. She'd been in similar situations countless times before, although never this severe. She could give him every bit of intel on the enemy, their locations, their weapons, even crack their codes and translate their languages. She was capable of accessing satellites at any moment, giving her and the Chief visual access to any one location on a UNSC-controlled world. She could fly anything, from the small-sized Pelicans to full-sized destroyers to even Covenant battle cruisers.

But at times like this, she really hated being virtual.

"Come on, John…"

--

_This time he lay on his back on the cool grass, hands supporting the back of his head. He breathed in the crisp, night air, eyes on the hundreds of stars above. They looked so far away, yet he knew that in time, he'd visit their systems. The woman in the white doctor's coat had told them so. _

"_Do you think we'll ever meet them?" The young girl beside him asked quietly, hopefully. John closed his eyes and chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. A typical habit for the six-year-old boy. _

"_I hope so. Don't you?" _

--

Cortana lit up as she heard a faint groan come from John's limp body. She saw his eyes flicker weakly inside his helmet via the internal suit camera.

"Welcome back, Chief. Can you move?" John blinked to clear his head. He thought he was blind in his left eye until it slowly began to clear, and he realized it was blood. He frowned, realizing he must be bleeding from the impact of his head against the side of his helmet. He didn't remember those last few moments too well.

"Did they track us down?"

"I can't be sure. Best to be on the safe side and move out." The Spartan gave a single nod and slowly rose. Now that his vision had cleared a bit more, he could see a long, diagonal crack on the right side of his face shield. The blow against the side of the Longsword had been almost enough to shatter it.

John stood on his own two feet, wincing from a sharp pain in his lower right calf and ankle. There was also a powerful ache in his left side. He'd have to assess his injuries later, however. Springing into a jog, the Spartan made his way which he arbitrarily designated north. His first order of business was to get as far away from the crashed Longsword as possible. The fire and smoke would act as a beacon, attracting the _Untold Truth_ or any ground forces straight to his location.

John spotted a cluster of trees just ahead and to the east. He shifted direction, making it inside the cluster just as two shots rang out behind him, back toward the crashed Longsword. He heard voices call out to each other.

"They've landed."

--

Cortana continued to monitor the Chief's vital signs, even after he'd awoken. Heart rate and pulse were up to almost normal peak conditions. Knowing he'd have to wait until they were no longer being pursued to treat his own injuries, Cortana decided to take stock of the situation herself. Working between John's mind and the MJOLNIR armor, she came to a final conclusion regarding his status: two fractured ribs, a torn Achilles tendon, a mild to severe head concussion, a broken left wrist and mild internal damage to his liver and right lung. He would also most likely need stitches on his left temple. Without the augmentation done to his body or the MJOLNIR suit he wore, he would be dead. Only a Spartan could have survived that sort of impact he'd endured.

"They've landed." John said to her, his voice low. The AI refocused her attention to whoever was trying to track them. Using the Chief's motion sensor, she spotted two small red blips roughly twenty-five meters back.

"I'll be right back." She relayed back. He barely nodded. Cortana withdrew. She hoped to locate any remaining UNSC satellites still in orbit around Sore. She doubted there would be any remaining after the Covenant glassed half the planet, but perhaps they would get lucky.

They needed a little luck.

--

John suddenly felt very empty once again. The coldness in his skull withdrew. The Spartan stopped for a moment, both to catch his breath and to listen. He heard the light wind rustle the leaves of the trees and his own strained panting. If he was being chased, his pursuers were being very cautious.

Noticing that no blips were showing up on his radar, John raised his eyes to the trees. Blood from the laceration on his temple was continuing to cloud his vision, making it difficult to make out objects. He had to seal the wound with temporary biofoam. Unfortunately, that meant removing his helmet. John raised his arms, ignoring the searing pain in his left side, and grasped the second-lowest branch of a sturdy _josperr_ tree. The species was a hybrid between the common white oak and the mighty redwood, introduced into the ecosystem on Earth back before John was even born. It quickly spread throughout the Sol system and was transferred to other star systems from there. John briefly remembered being five-years-old, before the UNSC inducted him into the Spartan II program, and climbing the tall _josperr_ tree behind his home. The species was bred for its incredible strength, although it lacked the redwoods height, reaching between one-hundred-forty to two-hundred feet total. Still, it would suit his purposes well enough.

John hefted his weight onto the branch. Knowing that, even at the base, the branch wouldn't hold long, John shifted his weight to the one above. After reaching an altitude of roughly thirty feet, the Spartan stopped. Staying as close to the trunk as he could, he determined that he was comfortably high enough not to be spotted by anyone on the ground. His cover wouldn't last forever, but it might just last long enough.

The sudden icy coolness once again entered his mind.

"Decided to take up tree climbing?" Amusement laced the AI's voice.

"Very funny."

He perfectly balanced the half-ton weight of his armor on the base of the branch. Reaching up, John carefully removed his helmet and placed it beside him, wedging it as tightly as he could between his hip and the rough bark. Luckily his suit was always fitted with a small emergency supply of biofoam, a white foamy substance which sealed off flesh wounds and kept them from getting infected. It could be filtered over the Spartan's wounds automatically using the suit's various entry ports. Unfortunately, there were no entry ports in the suit's helmet.

John removed the front panel of his chest armor, quickly locating one of the sources of the foam – a small spray tube, roughly six inches long and two inches wide. He sprayed a tiny amount onto his left temple and rubbed it into the cut. Immediately the foam began to grow, sealing off the wound from the outside air. It stung like, as a soldier once described, a dozen burning ants crawling over the wound. John ignored the pain and placed the tube back into the metal casing of his armor before connecting the armor itself once more to his suit. Content that that was taken care of, the Chief grabbed hold of his helmet and placed it back over his head. He was greeted by the sound of Cortana's urgent voice.

"Chief! We've got multiple contacts approaching from the south and from the north. They're trying to flank us!"


	9. Entrapment Ch 8

Captain Jim Krenald took a deep inhale of his cigarette, eyes on the tiny view panel in front of him

Captain Jim Krenald took a deep inhale of his cigarette, eyes on the tiny view panel in front of him. The panel was connected to a heavy set of white, airtight doors. The Captain breathed out a lungful of smoke before leaned down over the panel. His grey eyes focused one a small, red-colored dot. A laser-thin beam of light latched onto his eyeball, scanning his pupil and iris. Within a second the doors slid apart, revealing a small, dimly-lit room within. Captain Krenald straightened back up and entered the secure briefing room.

"General." Krenald saluted, seeing the older man seated before him at a round mahogany table.

"At ease, Captain." General Carter spoke, leaning back in to his chair. Krenald bowed briefly before seating himself on the opposite side of the table. "Sir. As I relayed to you earlier, we have made contact with the Spartan designated Master Chief, or," he paused, flipping open a manila folder, "John 117."

"Christ." General Carter scowled. "The Master Chief perished eleven years ago during the Second Battle of Earth. This is a widely accepted fact. No trace of him has yet been-"

"Yes, Sir." Captain Krenald interrupted, a clear breach of protocol. He leaned forward. "Yet he was in this ship just one hour ago." General Carter tightened his fists in anger.

"He's going to ruin everything!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Sir." General Carter pressed his palms against the table top, looking the Captain straight in the eyes.

"I had better hope so, Captain. For both of our sakes."

--

The Master Chief made it down the tree in the best manner he knew how: he jumped. He flew through the thirty feet of air before landing easily in a crouch on the forest floor. Hearing a series of shots ring out close by, John sprinted to the east.

"How come nothing is showing up on my radar?" He checked again – no contacts in the vicinity.

"The crash might have knocked it out of calibration. Try rebooting it." Cortana suggested.

John stopped running and paused, listening. Silence reigned once more. He shut down his radar, taking a breather as he waited for it to come back up. As soon as it did so, he noticed two contacts approaching from the south.

"Chief, we got-"

"I know." He broke into a second sprint. As he was running, his hand went to the M6D still strapped to his upper thigh. The last thing he wanted to do was pull the trigger on UNSC forces – fellow soldiers. But he was stranded on a remote planet with no orders. What other choice did he have?

The Chief checked his ammunition, regardless. He found twelve rounds in the chamber and another two boxes, each holding forty-eight rounds each. Not necessarily the arsenal he had been hoping for. He'd just have to ration out his shots very carefully.

The Master Chief returned the pistol to its holster. Fist things first: he needed to find cover and attempt to establish contact with anyone else possibly in orbit around Sore.

"Cortana? Is there any way to hack into the surrounding satellites?" He paused. "If there are any?..." Cortana's voice came through the internal suit speakers, cool and calm.

"Luckily for us Chief, there is _one_ satellite currently still in orbit. According to specs, it was scheduled to be dropped from orbit seven years ago. Further conflicts with the Covenant prevented that from being done."

"Further conflicts?..." John whispered, once again coming to a halt. Had he really been so naïve to assume that after he and the Arbiter had destroyed the Prophet of Truth, the war with the Covenant would be entirely over?

"Indeed. Rebel Covenant factions have been found in the Harvest system and on remote planets such as this one. None have been reported near Sol."

John gave a single nod and glanced down at his radar. Three more blips had just appeared and were flanking his position. Knowing he'd have to face them sooner or later, the Master Chief removed the pistol from his side and pressed his back against one of the _josperr_ trees.

If they wanted him, they'd have to come and get him first.


	10. Entrapment Ch 9

John spotted the head of a UNSC soldier cautiously peer out from behind a short spruce tree

John 117 spotted the head of a UNSC soldier cautiously peering outward from behind a short spruce tree. John squeezed out a single shot. The bullet dug into the trunk of the tree as the soldier propelled himself back in a panic. An intentional miss. John wanted to establish who these forces were and what their mission was; not simply kill them outright.

"State your rank and mission, soldier." He growled, finger remaining on the trigger, ready to fire.

"Shit…" Rapid muttering ensued. That alone was enough information for the Chief to evaluate that this was indeed not a rescue team.

"Stand down!" A Navy Commander stepped carefully into the clearing, hands raised in an 'I'm unarmed' gesture. His shortly-cropped black hair was slick with sweat and disheveled. An assault rifle lay at his feet in the tall grass. As much as John's instinct screamed at him to obey the higher-ranking officer, his brain told him that this could just as easily be a trap.

And he wasn't about to get himself killed for walking into a trap. Not after surviving the Hell he'd gone through eleven years ago on the Halos.

"Sir, no Sir." He replied wearily, keeping his pistol trained on the Commander. "With all due respect, Sir, a Captain Krenald just attempted to have me killed. I'm not lowering this weapon until I am sure of the intentions of you and your men."

There was a lengthy silence. The Commander met the Spartan's eyes, unmoving.

"You won't shoot a senior officer, son. I am warning you… Stand down." He took a careful step forward. John glanced down at his radar – two more enemy units were trying to flank his position.

"What are you going to do?" Cortana asked in his ear. She sounded strangely far off. The Master Chief let loose two more rounds, aimed just over the Commander's head. The Commander automatically ducked, and the Chief took the opportunity to bolt. Shots rang out behind him and a single bullet impacted against his back between his shoulder blades, draining his shield a quarter of the way. John leaped, rolled, and sprang back up to his feet, dodging to the left.

"Chief, more contacts ahead!"

John swerved once more. He did what he could to streamline his bulky MJOLNIR armor, allowing him to move even faster. Seeing a blur of motion in his peripheral vision, John slid into a stop and raised the pistol. He let out a single shot, which subsequently tore into the lower arm of the Navy Lieutenant who attempted to fire on him. The Lt. screamed and clutched her arm, dropping her battle rifle in the process. The Spartan broke back into a sprint, making his way deeper into the forest.

Cortana's voice came through his helmet speakers. "Chief…you could easily have killed them all. Why didn't you?" John was silent for several long moments.

"They are still fellow soldiers." He answered quietly. Cortana had already begun to say something else when a series of yelling came from behind them.

"Get back here, Spartan!" The sound of firing rang out.

"There's a lot more of us then there are of you!"

Then lower. "Damn son of a bitch." He heard the Commander's dry chuckle. "Ackerson said this one would be a handful." John's gaze hardened. He knew that the Admiral had been notorious in his rivalry against Dr. Hasley's Spartan II project. He had been convinced that his Special Weapons projects could bring about the end of the Covenant faster then the Spartans were capable of doing. But when the Spartans continued to prove themselves better over and over again, the Admiral's rivalry had transformed into something more.

Still, it was difficult to believe that he would take it as far as to attempt the assassination of one. John briefly wondered if _this one_ meant that there were still others… Other Spartans out there that Ackerson wanted terminated.

Despite the anger that was welling up inside the Chief, John didn't stick around to confront the Commander about it. He needed a safe place to freely confer with Cortana first. Perhaps find out what the good Admiral had been up to as of late.

Easily leaving the soldiers behind, John waited until he could no longer hear the echoes of their voices or see their blips on his radar before slowing.

"Satellite imagery shows an abandoned bunker seventy-three meters ahead." Cortana reported. "No heat-signatures detected, but be weary of traps." John nodded, not needing the reminder. He approached the building with caution, mapping out the surrounding area before moving inward. It was a squat, low structure; one that clearly had not been used in decades. The Spartan pressed his back against the wall next to the heavy iron door, raising his newly-loaded pistol. He waited several moments, listening, until he slammed the butt of it hard into the center of the door. It grunted, than caved inward, collapsing. John spun, aiming the M6D into the interior of the building which, from the look of it, only consisted of one large, dusty gray room. He moved carefully inside, monitoring his radar for movement. Nothing. The entire building was still.

The Master Chief crouched near the door, lowering his pistol.

"Cortana. Do you have any recent information on what Admiral Ackerson has been up to these last several years?"

"Just a moment. Scanning information received from the _Untold Truth_." There was a second's pause. "According to the computer, Ackerson was captured by Covenant Loyalist forces during the Battle of Mare Erythraeum in 2552, during the Second Battle of Earth. The official record states that he's been Missing In Action ever since.

"Official record?..."

"I found a file labeled top secret. So far, all my attempts to open it have been unsuccessful. It's strange though – you'd need an AI to program a locked file this effective, and there wasn't one on the ship."

John kept his eyes on the door. "That doesn't mean anything. The Captain could be in the possession of a portable AI unit."

"I'll keep trying, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to open it. Computer encryption technology has apparently grown considerably in the last decade." It was difficult to keep the envy out of her voice. She'd always prided herself on her incredibly encryption skills, which were the best the UNSC could offer.

_Well, they had been, anyway…_ She thought bitterly. Eleven years ago.

"What makes you think this file has anything to do with Ackerson?" The Chief interrupted her thoughts. Cortana composed herself.

"Strange references to something titled the _Ackerson Project_. I can't tell you anything else until I am able to hack this folder."

"Is there any chance the Admiral could still be alive?" The very idea seemed laughable, if the Chief had been the laughing type. The Covenant never left any survivors. Yet at the same time, the record had stated that Ackerson had been captured. Not killed.

Was there a chance he was still alive somehow, running this project?

"What about any surviving Spartans?"

"The last records the ship computer received regarding any of the remaining Spartans state that Blue Team plus Spartan-043 was deployed to a remote planet somewhere in the Zeta Doradus system. That was also in 2552." She paused. "Whatever mission it was, it was also labeled top secret."

"Which planet?"

"I'm sorry, Chief." John briefly lowered his eyes. So he still didn't know if he was the last remaining Spartan or not. Perhaps they had already been eliminated because of this project that Ackerson could possibly be heading. But he knew that Fred, Kelly, Will and Linda were every bit the warriors that he himself was, and if anyone could survive an assault from Ackerson, it would be them.

John checked and rechecked his pistol before climbing back to onto his feet. Cortana's voice came once again through his speakers.

"Just what do you plan on doing?"

The Chief's answer was simple. "I'm going to find out what happened to the rest of my team."


	11. Entrapment Ch 10

"And how, exactly, are you going to pull that off

"And how, exactly, are you going to pull that off?" Cortana asked, crossing her slender arms over her chest and looking at the Chief in a critical fashion. They had been able to locate a holotank of sorts near the eastern portion of the structure. The room was littered with debris, looking as though it survived a Covenant attack at some point in its history. Deep recesses criss-crossing over the iron door indeed looked like swipes from an Elite's powerful plasma sword. There were no bodies to speak of. Whoever had arrived afterward had cleaned up well.

"You really should have more faith in me." The Chief tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze resting not so much on the AI, but rather, the condition of the panel on which she stood. The holotank was admittedly not in the best of shape. It had been knocked over in whatever battle had occurred here, and even after John had tried to shove it back into its original position the tank continued to tilt at a slight angle. The result gave Cortana's holographic figure a somewhat comical slant.

If the Chief had been the laughing type, of course.

"I'll have more faith in you when it's warranted." Cortana shot back, the symbols scrolling over her body lighting up a hostile red. John paused while reconfiguring his armor specs. The MJOLNIR technology allowed for him to conveniently increase or reduce the thickness of its shield covering his fingers and the bottoms of his feet. He'd increased both settings to maximum before crashing the Pelican into the planet. Now he reset them back down to minimum, allowing himself to handle objects with far better maneuverability. Now he carefully removed his helmet, his weary gaze regarding the AI.

"And when, Cortana, has it not been warranted?" He asked quietly, his eyes dark. Cortana realized her mistake and let her arms fall. Her own eyes softened and her shoulders drooped. The symbols returned to their normal purple-pink hue.

"It has been warranted, Master Chief. Time and time again. I apologize." John didn't answer. Instead, he shot her one more glance before slipping his helmet back on. Cortana had not been acting entirely normal ever since he'd awakened from cryo. He briefly wondered if these breaches of military protocol meant that the AI was descending into rampancy, which inevitably consumed all AIs after their lifespan of roughly seven years. Then again, Cortana had never been one for following the direct rules of protocol. Most of the time, talking to her he felt like he was talking to a civilian.

The Chief erased the wry smile that had eased its way onto his features.

"Good."

Lord Hood strode down the main hallway of the cruiser _Life After Death_, his black shoes clicking against the hard tile. The ship, the third ship in the brand new Eternity class, was considered to be the most advanced of the fleet. Lord Hood clasped his hands firmly behind his back as he rode the lift to his bridge. He was getting too old to be a part of space battles, anymore. Not that there had been much to fight since the fall of the Covenant. Even putting down the occasional Covenant Loyalist group had slowed considerably. He removed his officer's cap and ran a heavy palm through his thinning white hair.

Emerging from the lift, Lord Hood strode forward onto his bridge. Lt. Janet Rodgers, his navigations officer, stood at immediate attention at his arrival.

"At rest…" Lord Hood nodded to her.

"Sir. We have been cleared to leave _Cairo Station_. Engine is at 100 and standing by." Hood cleared his throat before answering.

"Good. I want us clear of this station and in Slipspace in twenty minutes."

"Sir, yes Sir." The Fleet Admiral took his place on what the officers enjoyed dubbing the Hot Seat, his eyes landing on the main forward view screen. All that lay ahead of them was a blanket of stars.

"Sir. Permission to speak, Sir?" Lord Hood glanced over his shoulder at his Communications officer, a young Second Lt. by the name of William Lovestone. The man – a boy, really – had only just graduated from the Naval Academy, but had passed with marks nearly unprecedented. The Admiral saw a lot of himself in the young man. Which was why he had requested the boy – his nephew – be transferred to his bridge immediately upon graduation.

Now, as he watched the boy of only twenty-two years greet him with a question and a sharp salute, he hoped that William's foreseen potential would be put to good use here on the _Life After Death_. Lord Hood returned the salute and gave the Lt. permission to stand at rest.

"Permission granted." William relaxed the salute but kept his posture straight.

"Sir…is it true?"

"Is what true, son?"

"That there is a Spartan on board this ship." The Admiral stood, meeting his nephew's eager gaze. He knew the young man had never seen a Spartan before. To the new recruits, Spartans were stuff of legends. The battles they'd fought and won, the medals they earned and the sacrifices they had made had been the subjects of myths told to enthusiastic recruits down at the Naval Academy. Lord Hood had heard many of the stories himself from his nephew, and surprisingly enough, they were incredibly accurate. It seemed that the stories of the Spartans needed no further embellishment or exaggeration to weave a good tale. The material was all there.

Lord Hood turned from the young Lieutenant and made his way over to his own station. There, he rummaged through a small pile of folders before locating the one he was looking for. He opened it, gaze landing on the bold print typed neatly at the top of the paper. **Spartan-087**. And just below that, **Spartan-058**.

"There is, son. In fact, there are two."

--

Kelly couldn't help but give her friend and fellow Spartan an amused grin.

"Hey. At least we get through the line faster." Linda arched a brow and shrugged her shoulders. The act was a notoriously difficult one, especially when you take into consideration that each minimal movement made in the Mark IV MJOLNIR armor was increased at least thirty fold. Any normal person attempting to perform such a maneuver in the armor would be killed by out-of-control spasms or asphyxiation via a quickly broken neck. Kelly never liked to dwell on such things, but they were somewhat hard to forget when had seen them with her own eyes.

"You could say that."

"Oh, don't pretend you're not flattered." True, the Spartans had always been distant from the rest of the UNSC troops. That was due in part to their own desire to stay focused on any tasks ahead, as opposed to making friends within the ranks. At certain times this could very well be seen as a luxury. Such as now, when it came time to receiving their food from the crowded _Life After Death_ mess hall. They were avoided at all costs by the recruits, who could tell immediately who they were by their height alone. Their olive-green armor suits made their status a dead give-away, even without their helmets, which they had set down at their desire table earlier. Their simply stepping into the cafeteria line had been enough to persuade several hungry soldiers to go in search of finding lunch elsewhere.

Kelly picked out her meal and moved forward. Linda followed suit. Her shoulder-length red hair, normally pulled back into a tight ponytail to keep the tendrils from blowing into her face, was let down. Her green eyes contrasted sharply with her red hair and pale skin, giving her a striking appearance. Kelly imagined that if Linda had not been a Spartan, she would have received beyond her share of dating offers from the male recruits. Not that Linda would have said yes to any of them. Even among the notoriously quiet Spartans, Linda was nearly mute. As a crack-shot sniper, she worked independently and alone while the rest of the Spartans worked in teams whenever possible.

Kelly led them back to their chosen table, separate from the rest of the mess hall. The two seated themselves and began to eat. Each of them sat in silence. Kelly knew little of their mission objective, other then it was supposed to be just the usual: put down a group of rebel Covenant Loyalists on some distant planet. She couldn't believe she was beginning to miss the old days, when her and the rest of Blue Team (including John, before his disappearance) fought the Covenant both in space and on the ground. Unlike most everyone else, Kelly couldn't find it so easy to simply write off her old command leader as dead, and she knew that Linda felt the same. Due to the age-old Spartan tradition, he had been listed as MIA for the past eleven years, although in the books written since the fall of the Covenant described him and the other so-called _missing_ Spartans as dead. Kelly just hoped that one day she would find out what really did happen to John, and whether he was really dead or not.

Kelly blinked her eyes and refocused her attention on her meal. Mental speculation was a fine exercise. But if John were here now, he'd warn her to keep her attention on what was at hand: namely, the upcoming mission to Sore. She set down her fork to rest on her empty plate and gave Linda a coy smile, noting her untouched bagel.

"You gunna eat that?"


	12. Entrapment Ch 11

Dr

Dr. Hasley typed a series of commands into her portable laptop. Her eyes studied the email intently before narrowing behind her wire-framed glasses. So ONI wanted her out of the KINGDOM – well that was just fine with her. She held only distaste toward the hastily-built underground structure that served as the military branch on Conquer. It was only a poor copy of what CASTLE base had been on Reach.

In the weeks and months following Reach's destruction, Fleet Comm. had come to realize that a new base was needed for their intelligence headquarters. Reach was all but destroyed – glassed by the Covenant years ago. Only recently had the construction of KINGDOM been completed on the planet Conquer, seen by the UNSC as Reach's successor. But to Dr. Catherine Hasley, the KINGDOM was nothing but poor in comparison. It had not been built under a mountain as CASTLE base had been, but rather, built into the ridge of a high-arching cliff on the edge of a large valley. Conquer had few mountains to speak of, and certainly not one as large or protective as Mechanite Mountain had been.

Another issue that Dr. Hasley had with the KINGDOM was poor security. True, the strict protocols thrusted upon her at CASTLE base had been frustrating, to say the least. But ever since the Covenant's downfall, it seemed that Fleet Comm. had learned nothing about matters of security. Code words were disregarded; passwords made useless by uninterested AIs. Which was unfortunate for the doctor, being as though she had an interesting new little toy that she really desired to try out.

"Focus?"

"Yes, m'am?" The image of the AI flickered once, than appeared in full-form on her desktop. Dr. Hasley dropped her chin into her hand, regarding the rather interesting AI.

"I assume you've read through the logs."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play games with me. I'm not in the mood."

Focus flashed her a charming smile. The AI was most certainly unusual, even as AIs normally go. True, they came in a wide variety of forms. In her lifetime, Dr. Hasley had seen them take the forms of mermaids, Nordic goddesses, Titans, shimmering balls of light and even one particularly creepy-looking flaming skull. Focus took the form of a Greek centaur, a white-furred creature with a similarly-white tail and shortly-cropped spiky hair. His human torso was pale but carried a youthful glow, and his eyes a shimmered icy blue.

But Focus was separate from the others not only in his appearance. He was also deemed a 'smart' AI, like Cortana. In fact, he had been developed from part of Cortana's processing, which Dr. Hasley kept in her lab. Strictly against protocol, of course. But her research had led her to develop Focus, a highly advanced technological achievement and the first of his kind.

In fact, Focus reminded Dr. Hasley of Cortana in many ways. He was exceptionally brilliant, but that was standard in 'smart' AIs. He was also enthusiastic and energetic, often times failing to follow protocol to the letter. She wished she were able to test him in an actual mission. But so far, ONI had yet to grant her that single request, stating that further research on Focus needed to be completed, first. Which was interesting, since they had at first attempted to deny her access to a lab at the KINGDOM. A pity really, but Dr. Hasley had never cared much for ONI or the limitations they set on her research.

"If you insist, Doctor…" The AI bowed his head, a quirky smile resting on his face. "ONI had you transferred from the KINGDOM to a remote researching facility somewhere in the Deus System. They're being suspiciously secretive about it…"

The doctor knew when her new AI was trying to play games. "Out with it." Focus shifted his weight, his four miniature hooves hitting her desk with a soft 'clop'. He tapped his lips with a finger, emitting a thoughtful 'hmm'.

"I believe it's Uraquake. Silly name for a planet, don't you think?"

"Indeed." Doctor Hasley sniffed, pushing her glasses back up to rest comfortably on the bridge of her nose. "Focus, send word to Spartans 087 and 058 that I want to see them in my office." The centaur nodded his head and promptly disappeared. Moments later, the doctor heard the muted echo of the AI's voice over the shipboard comm. system. Typically, AIs were not granted access to intercoms without permission from the Captain. But given that Lord Hood and the doctor were on especially good terms with each other, Dr. Hasley considered permission to be granted in advance. If the Fleet Admiral disapproved, she'd certainly hear about it later.

The doctor sat in silence. There was yet a third reason why Focus meant a great deal to her. And that reason alone had been enough to keep her from pleading her case directly to the top brass at ONI.

When Cortana had been created, it was imperative that her mind be the best mind possible. Her own brain had been flash-cloned twenty times, only a single one surviving the process. That brain later became the layout for Cortana. The AI emulated the brain's neural patterns, making her work in the exact same way that a human brain works. Since scientists do not yet know exactly what makes the brain work, they can't simply program that into a digital chip.

Dr. Hasley thought about Focus and his child-like enthusiasm. His youthful appearance and his abundant energy. She thought about his endless need to please humans and his undying loyalty to the UNSC. And she realized that, just as she had predicted years ago, John's own brain, flash-cloned when the UNSC – when _she_ – had kidnapped him into the program, would indeed make an excellent template for a new AI.

After several minutes, Focus's form reappeared on Dr. Hasley's desktop. "They have arrived."

"Do let them in." The heavy password protected door slid apart, revealing the two Spartans, dressed in their complete combat armor. Focus's centaur form promptly vanished.

Dr. Hasley gestured for the Spartans to enter the office. She did not bother telling them to sit down. They wouldn't have anyway, and even if they had, there was no possibility that her measly desk chairs could support their half-ton weight.

"I know you've been briefed on your upcoming mission to Sore." She began, crossing her hands over the desktop. The Spartans shifted uneasily. A flicker of amusement passed through the doctor's eyes. "And I'm sure you've been ordered not to pass on any classified information. Don't worry – you don't need to." She stood.

"There is someone I would like you to meet." She gestured to the corner of her desk, where the roughly one foot tall silver centaur reappeared. Dr. Hasley noticed Kelly tilt her head. Linda remained still. The doctor had known them since they were young children, and found it remarkably easy to tell them apart, even despite their identical armor.

For his part, Focus performed a rather elegant bow. "Ladies." He rose and looked to each one in turn. "So which one will be mine?"

"Wha-?"

"I wish for you to take him with you to Sore." The doctor interrupted.

"But Lord Hood never mentioned taking an-" Dr. Hasley raised her palm to ward off Kelly's incoming question.

"Yes. I am aware of that. It's important that you do not tell anyone what I am asking you to do." She dropped her hands. "I need you to trust me on this."

"We should not be doing this."

"I trust Dr. Hasley."

"So do I." Linda replied, her tone coming uncharacteristically quick. "But she by no means outranks a Fleet Admiral."

"Am I interrupting something?" The sound of the AI's voice filtering through Kelly's helmet speakers felt strange to the Spartan. She'd never once worked this personally with an AI before. Not like John routinely did with Cortana. Personally, she couldn't imagine how he got through it.

"No." She replied in a stiff whisper. She heard a vocal sigh from the AI, then nothing. Kelly resisted the urge to sigh, herself. AIs were certainly complicated. Although by the same token, she had to admit that she was also impressed with him. Dr. Hasley had briefly outlined for them the advantages the AI held. Unlike more common AIs, this one did not have to reply on the use of a chip to be transferred. Instead of being simply a program that could be imbedded in to, say, a shipboard computer, his programming was located in a tiny sphere of AI memory core. This sphere, about half an inch in diameter, was capable of hovering up to a height of twenty meters. In order to project its unique image, or avatar, the sphere simply needed to land on any form of surface. The small size of the sphere guaranteed near-invisibility.

"If there is no chip, how can he interface between me and the suit?" Kelly had asked earlier. The doctor instructed her to hold out her hand toward the AI's holographic form. The AI stepped 'into' her hand and just as simply disappeared.

"Your suit carries a thin layer of the same material found inside an AI's core." Dr. Hasley explained. "It can affectively absorb the sphere. I had this in mind back when the MJOLNIR suits were first created. We simply didn't yet have the technology to make it work."

Kelly hadn't understood everything Dr. Hasley had said. But none the less, it was an interesting feeling having your mind shared with that of another. Speaking of…

"What is your name?" She asked of the AI. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Linda giving her a strange look.

"Well, you finally asked." He responded with a dry huff. "Dr. Hasley calls me Focus."

"What sort of name is that?"

A tiny image of the AI's centaur form appeared in the lower right-hand portion of her HUD. His forehead was creased, making him appear indignant.

"Excuse me?" He pouted. Kelly rolled her eyes.

"Nothing. Nevermind."


	13. Entrapment Ch 12

Linda watched Kelly in silence as the other Spartan communicated with the AI

Linda watched Kelly in silence as the other Spartan communicated with the AI. While she deemed AIs to hold incredible usefulness both in and out of combat, she herself would not feel comfortable with a separate being located inside her mind. Not that AIs qualified as beings, technically. But they seemed realistic enough.

Kelly might just take to the AI well, though. She was more sociable then Linda and was used to working in teams. Her speed (Kelly was by far the fastest of the Spartans, her lightening reflexes way ahead of any of the others) and need to make quick decisions made an AI a very useful feature. However, Linda was glad that the AI was in Kelly's head and not hers.

Linda realized her thoughts were wandering and refocused her attention on making sure her equipment was secure. Her advanced 99D-S2 sniper rifle lay packed neatly away in a light-weight carrying bag at her feet. Various attachments were stowed in side pockets. A medium-sized tripod used to steady the rifle leaned against the wall of the Pelican to her right; however, she doubted bringing that particular piece of equipment along. They could very easily land the bird right in the middle of a fire fight, and Spartans needed to be able to travel light. She could make due without it.

Turning her attention to the window next to her, she peered down at their destination. It was a dirty brown-looking planet. Not incredibly attractive. Lord Hood had informed them during their briefing that it was covered mostly with large forests, although it also had patches of desert here and there. Believing the desert may offer an easier landing, they had chosen one as far from any bodies of water as possible.

"Entering the atmosphere now." The pilot designated Goldilocks (who knew how pilots came up with their names…) said over the comm. His voice carried the enthusiasm of a child getting read to play his favorite game. "It's gunna get a little bumpy." Linda automatically braced her palm against the wall to her left. She pressed her heel against the bag containing the sniper rifle. She watched Kelly, who was sitting directly across from her shift in her seat, bracing the outsides of her feet against the protruding walls on either side of her. Linda met her gaze and they nodded together. They were ready.

"I can't say I've ever ridden a ship like this before."

"I guess there's a first time for everything." Focus's avatar shrugged his narrow shoulders.

"Can't say that I especially like space travel. Just makes you feel so…helpless. Like you can't control what happens." Kelly arched a curious eyebrow, glancing down at the AI's icon on her HUD.

"You're no more helpless here then you are on the ground." She pointed out. Focus gave his long tail a dismissive flick.

"I suppose." He paused. "Did Spartan-117 ever feel that way?" Kelly blinked at the unexpended question.

"Why?"

Focus smiled meekly. "No reason." Kelly furrowed her brow, thinking. She recalled a time when John did, indeed, mention that very same thought to her. She watched the AI run a palm through his hair, an act which immediately triggered Kelly's recollection of John doing that exact motion when he was weary or concerned.

"No, I want to know why-"

"Brace for impact!" The pilot's frantic voice rang from the comm. speakers. The Pelican jerked hard to the left just as a giant ball of blue plasma streaked past on the right. Kelly pushed both hands against the walls, trying to keep as many contact points with the ship as possible. She watched Linda push the bag containing her specialized rifle up against the wall in an effort to keep it in one place. The Pelican tumbled through the sky while the pilot did everything he could to slow their momentum. Kelly saw Focus's icon vanish from her screen. A second later she heard his voice in her helmet.

"I'll be right back." Kelly struggled to keep from sliding across the floor as the Pelican tilted hard to the left.

"I don't know how to let you go!..."

"You don't have to." Came his calm reply. The AI's centaur form appeared beside her, keeping perfectly still three meters above the rocking floor.

"Just let me tap into the controls… There we go."

"Hey, what the-?!" The pilot's confused shout came from the cockpit.

Linda managed to press the reply button on the comm. receiver. "It's alright."

"Let me level this bird out." Focus tapped the thrusters, correcting the extreme tilt. The Pelican rocked once more, then stilled. Metal flaps opened on one the wings, dramatically slowing their decent.

"It'll be a rough landing." Focus warned. Kelly didn't care. Anything was preferable to what they were facing just a minute ago.

"Ten seconds to dirt." The AI reported. The Pelican hit the ground on its belly, skidding across the sand and fishtailing wildly back and forth. They ran over a small scattering of palm trees and spun into a wide arc. Just as it seemed the ship was about to flip over, it fell back against the ground with a hard thud, having finally come to a complete stop.

Kelly relaxed her grip on the wall and slowly stood. The lights overhead flickered and went out. Luckily it was still daylight outside, and her enhanced Spartan eyesight made it quite easy to see even without the lights.

"Linda?" Linda's acknowledgement light flashed green. Kelly formed a thumbs-up. A hard cough came from the cockpit. Kelly saw their pilot rise from his seat and stumble back toward them.

"God Damnit. Who said the desert was going to be easy, again?" He demanded. Kelly briefly looked him over, sizing up his injuries. A broken rib or two. His wrist looked sprained. But it easily could have been a lot worse. She realized that Focus had once again vanished.

"You there?..." She asked, voice barely above a whisper. The AI flashed back onto her HUD, an amused grin on his face.

"Sorry for the rough landing. I haven't exactly driven one of these things before." Kelly blinked.

"It's… that's okay." She paused, reaching down to grab an assault rifle that had come loose during the ride. She then straightened back up, returning her gaze to the AI.

"…thank you."

He flashed that smile again. John's smile. "You're welcome."


	14. Entrapment Ch 13

Dr

Dr. Hasley already missed Focus. And it had only been forty-eight hours after his hidden departure with Spartans Linda and Kelly. She could only assume that they had made it down safely to the crust of the planet. Focus would help them to suppress the Covenant forces there, after which ONI would grant her permission to begin producing more of these advanced AIs.

Unfortunately, if the mission failed, she knew the project would be branded as inadequate. Focus would most likely be terminated. And after that, there would be no more advanced AI project. Although she had attempted to clone each of the Spartans brains before they had the augmentation performed, cloning technology had still been in its early phase. John's brain had been the only one to survive the process. If the project were to be continued, she would have to gather volunteer subjects, the quality of which would depend entirely on chance. Not exactly choice material, in other words. Not that ONI would give her any of the funding she needed for her work. She was running perilously low, as it was.

Focus was her last chance.

Dr. Hasley sighed and rubbed her aching temples. "Lyth?" The figure of an AI flickered twice before appearing beside the doctor. It was that of a slender pale woman, with the appearance of being in her thirties or so. Her hair was long, completely straight and jet black, a startling contrast to her skin tone. Her features were sharp, and her eyes held no emotion.

"Yes, Dr. Hasley?" Lyth was, of course, the doctor's temporary replacement for Focus. She was a 'dumb' AI, which was an unfortunately misleading term. While Lyth was in no way comparable to Cortana, Focus or any of the other smart AIs, she was still exceedingly brilliant in her specialized field. The doctor's eyes never left her computer screen.

"Search any of the recent logs made to the _Life After Death_ ship-board computer. Note me if you find any references to Spartan 117 or the Master Chief." She winced inwardly at herself. Of course John was dead. If Focus were here, he would point out how illogical it was to continue to search for him. A light smile touched the doctor's lips. Well, maybe then again, he wouldn't…

"Search finished." Lyth reported at that moment.

"And?..."

"No results." Dr. Hasley nodded.

"Thank you, Lyth."

"Yes doctor." As effective as Lyth was, Dr. Hasley found herself missing Focus's advanced conversational subroutine more and more.

"Wait, doctor. I've found something…"

"_Fire!!_"

Kelly searched the tree line for Linda, but found nothing. She heard three cracks, followed by three screams of Covenant soldiers. All three aliens collapsed in bloodied heaps on the ground. Kelly took the opportunity to sprint forward to cover. Pressing her back up against a tree, she reloaded her assault rifle with the skillful ease attributed to a Spartan. Up in the treetops, Linda had to be doing the same, as there was a pause between her shots.

"Target approaching on your six." Focus's voice came in her ear.

"Affirmative." Kelly replied. She whipped out from behind the tree, aimed at the nearest target (a brave grunt breaking free from the rest of the platoon) and opened fire. The short alien squawked and flipped backward through the air. She switched targets, firing at a single Jackal before setting her sights on powerful Elite warrior. The eight and a half foot tall alien let out a piercing roar and charged the Spartan, his powerful limbs tearing up the ground and he ran toward her. Kelly fired into the Elite until her counter read empty. Bringing her body low to the ground, she leaped as the Elite came within a hair's breath of gutting her with his plasma sword. She struck out against the alien's chest with her feet, knowing the already weakened rebel onto his back. There, she finished him off with a powerful stomp to his head, crushing his skull with the weight of her MJOLNIR armor. The alien dead, she tensed, preparing to fight off any other nearby Covenant hand-to-hand.

Three more cracks of a sniper rifle echoed in Kelly's ears. She allowed for a small smile. Linda, as always, had her back. Not one to waste such a valuable opportunity, Kelly took the time to reload her assault rifle.

"Yee-haw!!" Pilot Goldilocks smashed the butt of his battle riffle into the head of Grunt before finishing it off with a series of shots to its midsection. "Take _that_ you pile of intergalactic crap!" Kelly made a fist with her right hand and waved two fingers forward, the Spartan single to move ahead. She knew Linda was keeping an eye open for them and would find additional cover among the trees. Before moving, however, she turned to face the pilot.

"Go back to the ship. See if you can get her to fly again. Once we're finished, we're going to need a ride out of here." The pilot listened to her and nodded before responding.

"With all due respect ma'am, there is no way in hell that I am leaving the battle now." He jammed a full clip into his rifle to emphasize his point, a determined look in his eyes. "In fact, you'd have to get yourself an entire platoon of Spartans just to make it an even fight."

Kelly was about to protest before she thought better of it. With that kind of determination, the pilot could make for a valuable addition to the team. But that didn't change the fact that they would still need someone to drive the ship if anything should happen to him.

"Focus? If necessary…can you fly the Pelican?" Focus's form appeared on her HUD.

"Of course."

"Good." She turned her attention back to the determined pilot, meeting his gaze.

"You got yourself a deal."

The Master Chief headed back into the heavy forest surrounding the complex. Hearing gunfire ahead, he crouched and raised his pistol. Even with his advanced armor and training, he knew the odds were stacked against him. The Commander he'd come across earlier had an unknown amount of soldiers at his disposal. The Master Chief's shields were strong, but he'd be a fool to believe they were invincible. Still, he had always been lucky; at least that's what Dr. Hasley had once told him. At least he had that on his side.

"Chief. Radar shows movement up ahead." John squinted through the scope on his sidearm, peering through the heavy brush, expecting to see human contacts. What he wasn't expecting to see was a small group of Grunts fleeing from the east, shrieking in their high-pitched voices. So the Covenant Loyalists were indeed still occupying the planet. At least one question was answered. John's language translator automatically kicked in:

"Run!"

"They're gaining on us!"

"The Demons will kill us all!"

The Chief frowned. He hadn't been spotted by Covenant forces as of yet. And never had he heard the aliens refer to anything but himself as the so-called _Demon_. Dismissing the thought, he aimed the cross-hair directly over the head of the lead Grunt and fired. The alien fell and the other three Grunts spread out in different directions, waving their short arms in the air and screaming so incoherently the language software was incapable of translating. He brought down two more with headshots. Just as he was aiming at the final alien, the sharp crack of a sniper rifle cut through the air. The Grunt let out a single squawk and fell, dead. The Spartan instantly ducked and rolled his body behind a tall spruce plant, putting extra cover between himself and the direction the shot had originated from. Now he had the UNSC forces to deal with as well…

"Not bad." Kelly murmured, impressed. "Nice shot." Linda's acknowledgement light winked green. That single shot had covered a distance of nearly half a mile. Kelly stood and jogged into the clearing. Nudging a dead Grunt with her foot, she conferred with Focus.

"That everything?"

"Radar shows no movement. Wait…" Seconds passed. "I see faint movement roughly ten meters ahead at nine o'clock." Kelly looked and spotted a clump of spruces.

"I have visual. Hold on." She reported to Linda. She strode forward, taking aim and firing a series of shots just overhead. Expecting a Grunt to panic and bolt from cover, she was surprised when nothing happened. She semi-crouched to make herself a smaller target and slowed her pace, not so much as blinking as she crept toward her intended target. Meer feet from the brush, she raised her rifle to fire just as the one thing she had least expected to see whirled from cover into clear view. Pistol raised and aimed squarely at her chest, what looked like him but couldn't possibly be went rigid. Even encased in thick armor, his suit identical to her own, she knew from his height, posture and body language exactly who it was. She drew in a sharp breath.

"John?"

"…_Kelly??_"


	15. Entrapment Ch 14

Fred sprayed a thick layer of suppressive fire over the trio of Grunts

Spartan-104, Fred, sprayed a thick layer of suppressive fire over the trio of Grunts. Their squawks and shrieks blended together in the air, almost harmonizing. The Spartan slammed a fresh clip into his battle rifle and waved the marines forward.

"All's clear." He walked confidently forward. The six other soldiers had to jog just to keep up with the Spartan's long strides. A young red-headed, freckle-faced enlisted Private let out a whoop as he kicked aside the limp body of one of the Grunts.

"Yeah! _That's_ what I'm talking about!" Fred raised a black eyebrow. The soldier was green, this being his first actual battle against the aliens. Too green to remember the grim reality of the war that took place over a decade ago. An aging but respected soldier, Corporal Thompson, let out a snort.

"Control yourself, Private." He berated the younger man. He rested the length of his shotgun over his right shoulder. "It's easy for a greenhorn such as yourself to get carried away. If you had been paying attention just now, you would have taken notice that there are currently two Brutes heading out way as we speak." He ignored the Private's shocked expression and lowered his shotgun.

Fred lowered himself onto one knee. He stowed his battle rifle and whipped out the heavy firepower: a M41 SSR Rocket Launcher. He braced himself against the floor to keep his position steady. Seeing the Brutes (along with what looked to be five to six Jackals), he fired the weapon twice in succession. Both rockets streaked towards the targets. The first one slammed right into the lead Brute, impaling his thick brown hide and exiting through the other side. Jackals flipped through the air. The second rocket took out the final Brute. Gore and bright-colored alien blood splattered against the purple walls of the Covenant cruiser _Unparalleled Rebellion_. Fred stood back up, reloading the launcher before stowing it back onto his back, keeping it out of the way. He took hold of his battle rifle and moved forward. They needed to find the control room and set the ship for self-destruct mode.

"Corporal, take three men and scout out that way." He gestured to the left, down an empty corridor. "Radio if you encounter heavy resistance. I will take the other hallway." The Corporal nodded.

"Yes Sir, Lieutenant." He motioned to Privates Guy Gerald, Kim Leeanne and Jim "Harvy" Hardver, and the three of them started down the left passageway. Fred took note of the two Privates remaining (Nigel Willington and the young greenhorn, Russell James). He'd prefer to go at it alone, but felt it safer for the somewhat inexperienced soldiers to stay with him.

"Come on." Fred ordered, jogging forward down the right corridor. The Marines followed, having to sprint to keep up with the Spartan. Fred glanced briefly at his radar, finding nothing in sight. The Covenant rebel fleet had been shrinking dramatically these last several months. The UNSC was predicting that they would be completely whipped out by the beginning of next year. Fred knew he was not the only one looking forward to some peace and quiet. Still, he could not help but wonder what would happen to him, Kelly and Linda, not to mention Tom and Lucy, the only remaining Spartan IIIs. They all shared the common factor of being created for this war – it was the entire purpose for their existence. All any of them knew was war.

Fred pushed the thoughts from his head, a frown settling on his features. Now was not the time to be reminiscing about his future. Not when there was a mission to complete.

John couldn't believe it was Kelly standing there before him. He realized that he was pointing his pistol straight at her chest and lowered it slightly. It could still be some sort of trap set up by the Commander and his forces trying to obliterate him. He couldn't afford not to be cautious.

The other Spartan waved two fingers over her faceplate – the age-old Spartan smile. Because their helmets made it impossible to see each others faces, they often relied on signals or body language to communicate without use of their com system. Most of these signals they had developed as children when they were in training on Reach and had no communication systems (or the suits, for that matter). They used them more and more as Covenant technology improved, as using their com channel could very well give away their position to the aliens.

John stowed his pistol and returned the same gesture over his own faceplate. They would have to wait to exchange pleasantries later, however; a burst of firing erupted to the west. Kelly took note of John's entire arsenal and motioned to him before tossing her battle rifle in his direction. He caught the weapon easily and nodded to show his thanks. He heard the echo of a sniper rifle overhead and through the scope of his rifle he saw a Covenant jackal stumble and fall. It could only be Linda – no other Spartan could even come close to her sharpshooting skills. It was possible that Fred and Will were out there somewhere, as well.

John quickly scanned the perimeter but could see no one. Waving his right hand forward, he motioned to Kelly to move up. She followed his order, firing on a duo of Grunts that popped their heads out into the open. One of the shots hit an alien's methane tank, which sputtered and exploded on impact. John gunned down four more Jackals who were attempting to flank her. Together, with Linda covering their backs, they quickly disposed of the rest of the aliens in the immediate area.

"Chief." Cortana cut in. "I had received no information from the _Untold Truth_ that Spartans Kelly and Linda were alive." John lowered the rifle, firing into the chest of a downed but still breathing Elite. He gave a subtle nod, turning to face Kelly, who was watching him curiously.

"The Elites. I thought all of them had followed the Arbiter and separated from the Covenant years ago."

Kelly nodded the affirmative. "Most of them did. After the destruction of-"

"You guys are going to want to move." Linda's voice warned over the Spartan's private com channel. "I'm picking up movement ahead." There was a heartbeats pause. "It's good to see you, Sir."

John winked his acknowledgement light green. She had no idea how good it was to see _them_. "There's an abandoned structure roughly three miles north of here. We'll use it as a base for now." Both Spartan's lights flickered green. John couldn't describe in mere words how good it felt to have his team back.

"Linda, keep your cover. We'll meet you there."

"Affirmative." The Spartans took to the forest. It was not especially dense, and for them it was a simple task to slice through the underbrush. John's only concern was that the UNSC soldiers would catch up to them before he'd had time to formulate a plan. Covenant he knew how to deal with. Human soldiers were an altogether different story.

"Are you detecting any more movement?" He whispered to Linda over the com.

"Nothing."

He knew he had some explaining to do to Kelly and Linda. He also wanted to find out what had happened to Fred and Will, and if they were there or not. It was possible that they had become separated earlier on.

Human voices. Back the way they had come. John saw Kelly pause. "The fleet. They weren't going to land…" John grasped Kelly's arm and pulled.

"It's not the fleet. We have to go."

"I did find one result from the computer, Doctor." Lyth said. Dr. Hasley's eyebrows shot up and all her attention went to the AI. She hadn't expected anything to be found.

"Yes?"

"A reference to Spartan 117. It's in an encrypted file which I don't have the security clearance to access." Nor did she have the software to hack into a file that heavily encrypted. She silently cursed sending Focus away.

"Can you trace the file back to its original source?"

"Yes." A second passed. "The file originated from the _Untold Truth_. Unfortunately there is no other data pertaining to what-"

"It has to be an ONI stealth ship." Dr. Hasley breathed. "Unless there is something really big going on, here." She drank down the cold remnants of her morning coffee. "Has Lord Hood accessed this file?"

"According to logs, no."

"Then he doesn't know anything about it." She set down the cup, folding her hands calmly in front of her.

"It's time I shared some of this with him."


	16. Entrapment Ch 15

The Sangheili Supreme Commander clicked his lower mandibles once and slumped into his chair

The Sangheili Councilor clicked his lower mandibles once and slumped into his chair. Under normal circumstances he would never consent to being seen acting in such a dejected manner. The situation seemed to call for it, however. The rebel Covenant Loyalists were proving themselves to be much more formidable then originally thought. They had managed to spread to various sectors throughout both Human and Sangheili-controlled space. While the Covenant had no qualms when it came to glassing Loyalist-controlled planets, the Humans refused to have the same done to any planets under their control, even the unpopulated ones. The Sangheili (or Elites, as the Humans tended to call them) agreed to this restriction upon being granted permission to deal with the Loyalist threat in Human space.

However, it was proving to be quite the annoyance.

While the Councilor understood this relationship between the Humans and their planets better then most of his race, it did make their missions exceedingly difficult. Rebels defeated on the ground simply fled back to their stolen ships in space. And battling against a species of equal technology and intelligence was not something the Sangheili under his command were used to.

"Councilor." The Councilor's Special Operations Officer, Thyne 'Ottomo, respectfully bowed his head. "I have received word from the fleet _Extracted Revenge_."

The Councilor straightened in his chair. His voice held a faint note of interest. "Speak."

"Fleet Commander Rtas 'Vadum has sent word that Covenant rebels have been found on a previously uncharted planet." The Councilor stood, reaching his full height of eight feet, six inches. His golden armor glistened in the soft artificial light of the chamber.

"Where is this planet located?"

"On the edge of Human-controlled space." The Councilor gave a deep hum in the back of his throat, a show of frustration.

"And what do they call this planet?"

Thyne 'Ottomo spread his hands. "I do not know, Councilor."

He turned away, the soles of his feet making soft padding sounds on the ancient stone floor of the Holy Mausoleum. "I will honor my pact with the Humans." He announced, his voice low but heavy with passion. "We must seek permission to engage the Loyalist scum on this new planet." He turned back to his SpecOps Officer.

"Go. Prepare my ship and my Fleet." Thyne 'Ottomo bowed and hastily exited the chamber. The Councilor stood silent for several units before striding over to a series of computer monitors taking up the right-hand side of the chamber. He sent out a hail to the _Shadow of Intent_, ordering a communiqué between himself and Fleet Master Rtas 'Vadum. The nervous receiving officer was quick to establish contact, and soon the visage of the white-armored Sangheili filled the Councilor's screen.

"Fleet Master."

"Councilor." Rtas greeted in return, bowing respectfully. "You honor me with your presence."

"I have received your message," The Councilor cut straight to the heart of the matter. "pertaining to the rebels and their newly-establish location." The Fleet Master bobbed his head once.

"Yes, Councilor. The scum have been detected on a planet on the edge of Human-controlled space. We believe it's actually one of their larger bases. It is currently unknown as to whether the Humans are aware of this and have already sent in teams to neutralize the threat or not."

"That is precisely why I have ordered the preparation of my fleet."

The Fleet Master cocked his head to the side. The missing portion of his lower jaw gave him a somewhat lop-sided appearance. "I assure you Councilor, that I can eliminate this threat."

"Rest easy. I have good faith in you, my Brother." He replied, not wishing to cast doubt in his friend. "But if I am going to set the best example for my people, I have to journey to Sol myself."

"Sol?" The Fleet Master pressed his hands against the console. "You're going to see him again?"

"Indeed." The Councilor nodded his head gravely. He turned back to Thyne 'Ottomo, who had since returned.

"Establish contact with Lord Hood. Inform him that I will be traveling to the Human system Sol once again."

Pinyat stretched his muscles and yawned, uncurling from his ball. He raised his head and blinked sleepily up at the demanding human that had awakened him.

"I said up." The recruit sneered. "On your feet!" The Grunt whimpered and scrambled up. He took a deep inhale from his methane tank, wringing his hands in front of him and shifting his clubbed feet.

"Y-yes Sir?..." He stammered. The device attached to his mouthpiece perfectly translated his own language into the Human language English.

The Human, a tall yellow-haired male, crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "You're sleeping in late. Time to move." He growled. The tired Grunt nodded his weary head and galloped off in the direction he knew the work site lay in.

Eleven years after they lost the war, and he was still right where he was back then. He didn't understand why the Humans didn't simply have the Sangheili glass his home planet Balaho. Apparently, Humans seemed to harbor compassion for a defeated species, and instead of slaughtering them outright, they demanded labor to rebuild their destroyed cities.

Pinyat knew he had been situated in the Human worker town Voi, Kenya. The city had been glassed by the Sangheili in a successful effort to destroy the invading Flood forms. After the war, the Sangheili introduced to the Humans a substance that could be used to effectively break down plasma. Currently about half the city was still entrenched, and Pinyat had been steadily working to introduce the chemical into the remaining half.

The Grunt got to work guiding large tubes of the substance into holes drilled into the hardened plasma crust. He waved to the Grunt Foreman and stood back as the silver liquid flooded into the ground. After a few days, that section would begin to dissolve. Then more of his species would manually shovel what was left from the grass and dirt. It was difficult, backbreaking work. But at least it kept him from getting killed outright.

The hot African sun shone down on them unmercifully, and the air was blisteringly hot. It didn't help that the aliens were granted little rest by the Human officers in charge. Not that Pinyat could really blame them. It was better then the alternative…

"Lord Hood. I'm receiving a hail from the Covenant cruiser _Fruitful Ambition_." Lt. William Lovestone creased his forehead ever so slightly. "Sir, isn't that-"

"Yes, it is." Lord Hood rested his hands behind his back. "Put him on the forward screen." The Lt. obeyed, tapping a series of buttons until the image transferred. Lord Hood nodded to the Elite officer before finding himself once again face to face with the familiar alien being.

"Arbiter."

"It's Councilor, now." The Arbiter replied. "Councilor Moro 'Ptasm. My people call me the Last Arbiter."

"I see." The Fleet Admiral rocked back once on his heels. "Why is it that you wished to speak with me?"

"I have received a transmission from my Fleet Commander. Rebel Covenant have been found on one of your planets." Lord Hood leaned forward, interested.

"In this system?"

"No. I will have my officer send you the vectors." Minutes ticked by.

"Sir! Vector coordinates received." Lt. Janet Rodgers announced, voice tinged with anticipation. "Sir, that corresponds with the planet Sore."

Lord Hood returned to the screen. "Arbiter – Councilor, – forces have already been deployed to those coordinates. I have two Spartans currently en route."

"More demons?..." Moro 'Ptasm heard Thyne 'Ottomo suck in a sharp breath. He shot the inexperienced officer a sharp look.

"Hold your tongue." He reprimanded with an impatient growl. "If these two are anything like the one that I fought with in the war, I have no doubts that they will return triumphant." He returned his gaze to the screen.

"However, Admiral Hood, if you find yourself needing assistance in any way…" He spread his hands graciously. The Fleet Admiral accepted the offer.

"Thank you, Councilor. We will be in contact." He cut the transmission. His nephew stared at him.

"That was really him?"

"Indeed. Seems he's become some sort of Councilor now." Lord Hood mused aloud. "Interesting."

"But he's one of _them_. The Covenant. They've already destroyed millions of lives! Surely you haven't forgotten Harvest and the other-"

"That's enough." Lord Hood's tone was as cold as shaved ice. The young Lt. cut off mid-sentence and dropped his eyes.

"I apologize Sir." The Fleet Admiral sighed. He hadn't forgotten the loss of those lives for a single second. The deaths of the men who had served under him would haunt him until the day he died.

But now wasn't the time for looking back – it was the time for looking ahead. Humanity couldn't possibly win a war against the Elites, so it was useless to start a second one. As much as he still despised their kind for what they had done, the best way to remember those who had fallen was to rebuild what had been destroyed and carry on with their lives.

"It's alright, son. Sometime I'll explain to you."


	17. Entrapment Ch 16

Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed so far! I appologize for the format error. You can tell I haven't posted to in a long time :) I have gone through some chapters and fixed it, so they should read with the normal breakers inserted. Sorry for an confusion on my part. The rest will be fixed soon. Thanks again!!

--

All three Spartans made it back safely to the squat concrete building

All three Spartans made it back safely to the squat concrete building. The shouting behind them had quickly faded away, leaving only the vaguely familiar sounds of the forest. John looked over his two remaining Spartans, having so much to say but hardly knowing where to begin.

Luckily, Kelly took charge of the ice-breaking. "How is it that you are still alive?" She asked cautiously. "When we returned from Onyx, all reports said that you had died after destroying the Ark. The Arbiter was the only one to have made it back."

John fiddled with his rifle scope. "The portal we were escaping through closed, cutting the _Forward Onto Dawn_ in half. I wasn't killed, but we had no idea where we were, and no way to contact Earth."

"We?"

John blinked, than recalled what he had said. "Yes."

"He means me." Cortana cut in, her voice dry. "Thanks for the introduction, Chief."

He frowned. Cortana gave a virtual sigh and spoke again to the two other Spartans.

"The Master Chief spent the eleven years in cryo. I went into standby mode, which is the only reason I am still here now." Kelly nodded slowly, seeming to understand well enough. Linda remained still, calmly taking everything in. A trace of a smile flickered over Kelly's face.

"So Chief, basically you spent the last decade napping in the back of a cruiser?" Cortana began to reply (something witty and sarcastic, no doubt), but John interrupted her.

"Very funny. What happened to Fred?" Kelly turned serious again.

"Last I heard he was embarking on a secret space op." She shrugged her shoulders. John relaxed. So he was still alive.

"And Will?" Kelly and Linda's eyes flickered downward. John knew the answer before they even spoke.

"He fell. On Onyx." Linda replied quietly. John nodded and accessed his Spartan roster list via his HUD. He checked Spartan-043 as MIA, due to the old Spartan tradition of listing those that had died strictly as only MIA, due to public moral. He closed his eyes. The war was over – it was time for his Spartans to rest in peace. Opening his eyes, he methodically went through the list, checking off each Missing In Action Spartan as KIA. Hopefully it would finally give them the peace they deserved.

"John?" Kelly's voice again broke the silence. John snapped out of his reverie.

"Sorry."

"So _this_ is Spartan-117." John tensed. He saw Kelly give her head a slight tilt, indicating a roll of the eyes. A small, holographic form of a centaur appeared hovering in the air to Kelly's right.

"…what…?"

"John?" Focus quirked his eyebrows in amusement. "I expected someone with more presence."

"Ignore him." Kelly told John, interrupting the AI. "His mouth tends to get him into trouble." She narrowed her eyes in his direction. The AI gave her a meek grin. John watched with amusement.

"Who are-"

"Focus." He smiled brightly. "At your service. I can clearly see the resemblance."

"Resemblance?..." John whispered.

"Between you and I." The little AI tilted his head quizzically. "Don't you see it?" While John was rather sure he didn't share possess the hindquarters of a horse that the AI did, he recognized a series of vague similarities in certain facial structures; namely the straight forehead, high cheek bones and strong jaw.

"Oh don't tell me you can't figure it out." Cortana's voice cut through the silence. He caught sight of her image on his HUD, her slender arms crossed over her chest. The look of impatience on her face was all too familiar.

"Chief, he was_ created from your cloned brain_."

"I never _had_ my brain cloned." He replied, a little harshly. The AI rolled her eyes.

"You didn't. Dr. Hasley did." She knew Dr. Hasley had entrusted her to keep that little fact a secret (after all, she herself had overseen the procedure). But clearly this new AI was going to reveal everything anyway. Cortana enjoyed beating the uppity little AI to the punch.

Focus swished his tail in agitation. "Dr Hasley," he gamely continued, "had attempted to clone the brain of each Spartan during your early augmentation surguries. Yours, John, was the only one that survived the process."

Linda silently took in everything. That meant Dr. Hasley had tried to clone her brain as well. But for what purpose?

"Why?" Kelly asked, taking the initiative. "Why would she make an AI from John's brain?" She had an even bigger question: had Dr. Hasley knew they would encounter the Chief during their mission? Why else send Focus with them and not another AI?

That, however, she kept to herself.

"Why else?" Focus gave a small nod in John's direction. "Then a part of you would always remain here, no matter whatever happened to you in battle."

--

Fred-104 crouched low, pressing his back against the ship's bulkhead. He caught the attention of the other soldiers and, forming the number two with his fingers, he waved his arm over his head. Pvt. Nigel Willington nodded and lobbed a single grenade overhead. Fred counted to three and darted out from the safety of the ship wall, just as the explosion went off and shook the hallway. He fired into the smoke, his bullets catching the panicked Grunts through their leathery chests and backs. The aliens toppled over, emitting shrieks and pain-filled cries. Fred nodded to Willington and James, and the recruits followed him down the hall, eyes level with their rifle scopes.

Fred shot down a jackal struggling to rise to his feet before entering the now-unguarded bridge. Plasma rained down on him from above and he swung back into action, ducking under a raised platform that made up part of the bridge. One thing he was thankful for on this ship – it had gravity in the bridge, which was something he had come to expect on Covenant cruisers.

He found a gap and shot a Brute guard in the stomach. The brown-furred creature roared and dropped his plasma rifle, dropping onto all fours. Not because he was injured, however – the alien was trying to grab Fred through the gab and tug him out from hiding! Fred grit his teeth and scrambled away from the opening, silently cursing his aim. The Spartan propelled himself along the floor, just barely managing to avoid his head being crushed by the Brute shoving his powerful foot through the platform floor. He reached the end of the platform and scrambled to his feet just in time to see the Brute charge him. The alien gave a roar of rage, building up speed. Fred raised his rifle, aimed for the creature's neck, one of the weak spots in the armor. The sixth shot killed the Brute, but its momentum flung the lifeless body forward, crashing into the Spartan. The two tumbled before slamming into the wall. Fred's vision momentarily went black and all the air was knocked from his lungs.

"The Lt. is down!" He vaguely heard James yelling. "Give him some covering fire!" Fred blinked, managing to clear some of his vision. He let go of his rifle and braced both palms against the hulking beast, giving a powerful push. The dead weight slid off and the air once again entered Fred's lungs. He took a deep breath, the haze clearing completely from his eyes. He heard a yell of triumph as Willington finished off a group of Grunts. Ignoring a heavy pain in his ribs, he rose from the desk, lifting his gaze from the dead Brute.

"You okay, Sir?" James asked, arriving at his side. The Spartan nodded, slamming a fresh clip into his battle rifle.

"I'm fine. Let's finish this."


	18. Entrapment Ch 17

Capt

Capt. Krenald nodded to the Navy soldier, dismissing him. He turned away and stuck the end of his cigarette back into his mouth, inhaling deeply. So the Master Chief was still alive… Commander Birch would have to work harder if he was going to accomplish this part of the mission for them. Scowling, he stumped out his cigarette into an ashtray, grinding the fine particles into dust.

He'd destroy the Chief, yet. It was what Admiral Ackerson would have wanted. His Special Weapons project would continue unhindered, if only they could get those damned Spartans out of the way, first. A slow smirk spread over the Captain's face as he stared vacantly into the ashtray, at the destroyed remains of his cigarette.

The General had managed to have the two known living Spartans sent on a mission to Sore. Of course it had only been by chance that he'd come across the Master Chief. He hadn't expected that in the least bit, but it had worked out well enough. Even though his plan to destroy the Chief in space had failed, he really hadn't lucked out all that much. The Commander and his men down on Sore would do away with all three of them soon enough.

Captain Krenald turned away abruptly from the ashtray. After all, they were only three Spartans. How difficult could it be?...

--

"You said that those people back there were not our allies." Kelly shifted her weight ever so slightly from her left hip to her right one. "So who are they?"

John leveled his eyes at her. "Whoever they are, they tried to kill me." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Linda stiffen.

"I don't doubt that they will try to kill you two as well."

Kelly frowned. "But why? It doesn't make any sense." John shook his head.

"I'm not sure why. But I'm determined to find out." Kelly could practically sense his steely gaze through his helmet visor. When he came to be like this, no one could stop John. She'd learned that early on in childhood.

"Sir? If I could say something…" Linda cut in, stepping forward. "Shouldn't our first objective be to reestablish contact with Lord Hood? With his sources, he might be able to find some answers." She watched the Master Chief as his perfectly straight shoulders gave the slightest slump. The gritty determination melted from his tone.

"Of course. You're right." He frowned behind his visor. "I forgot to be objective." Linda nodded silently.

Kelly sounded almost bored. "So we radio the _Life After Death_. Tell Admiral Hood what's going on down here." She slung her rifle back over her shoulder. "If we try and use our comm. systems, there's a good chance whoever is down here will pick up the transmission."

She was right. John narrowed his eyes, trying to think up a solution to their predicament. He doubted whoever had been here had left anything behind that would be capable of hailing a cruiser, especially at that distance. And they had nothing on them that could… Wait.

"Cortana? Can you-"

"I'm sorry, Chief." The AI's voice sounded apologetic. "Over the years, the codes must have been changed for hailing UNSC fleet ships. I-I'm not sure I can comprehend…" She sounded distracted. Not a tone John was used to hearing from the prideful AI.

"Excuse me." Focus's voice piqued. He rejoined Kelly's side, having fallen back during the conversation. "I believe I may be of service in this situation."

"Can you establish contact with the cruiser?"

"I can do more then that." Focus gave a boyish grin. "I can send the Admiral our exact coordinates, and the last known coordinates of the rebel soldiers."

"And the Covenant? Or the Commander's forces?..."

"I guarantee that no one can hack into it." John nodded, satisfied.

"Do it." Focus nodded and his image vanished. Kelly gave his icon on her HUD an appreciative glance.

"Good work.."

"Oh, I aim to please." Came the cheerful AI's reply.

--

Cortana had never felt these things before. She was not human, but she was programmed with basic human emotions. She had experienced anger, fear, general frustration and concern. Common sense would tell her that this new emotion was jealousy… but it was still something she could hardly fathom. Her? Jealous? The very idea was laughable. Who did she have to be jealous of? Simply a new, better-programmed AI…she hated to imagine what they had come up with in the past eleven years. Her own system could be terribly in need of reprogramming. And that was assuming there was still time for that.

Cortana did the simple calculation in her head. The average lifespan for an AI was seven years. She'd been just over two years when the Second Battle for Earth took place and, she and the Chief had ended up in what remained of the _Forward Unto Dawn_. After that, she had gone into hibernation mode.

Did that mean that she had five years left? Or was there some unknown factor involved? Her aging must have been delayed by some measure, or else she would not still be here. But at the same time, the sheer amount of information she carried with her from the Halos and now the Ark was tremendous; certainly enough to shorten what time she had remaining. If she in fact did have five years left, that would give them plenty of time to reach Sol. Perhaps if Dr. Hasley could reprogram her…lengthen her lifespan…

And yet they said that computers were incapable of fearing death. Cortana forced a wry smile.

Maybe humanity didn't know as much about these computers as they claimed to know.

--

John watched the icon on the lower section of his screen which represented the AI in his armor. He flickered, indicating rapid calculations being made.

"Cortana?" It was a full second before she answered.

"Yes?"

"We'll get there in time."

The AI was taken back. Then again, she figured, she shouldn't be surprised. John was a master at understanding the motives and intentions of others. He could very well guess what thoughts her mind dwelled on.

She was grateful that he didn't mention what other emotions flooded her comprehension. She wasn't particularly in the mood to reveal the unseated wave of jealousy she was still struggling to fight off.

"I know." She replied. He nodded, directing his gaze back to his fellow Spartans.

"How much time does he need?"

"I'm getting the coordinates of the _Life After Death_ now." Focus replied. "Coordinates found. Transmitting.."

--

"Lord Hood." Lovestone called. "Receiving a transmission." He furrowed his normally smooth brow. "I don't recognize these coordinates."

"Punch them into the nav. base." The Admiral replied calmly. He came up behind the boy, resting his heavy hand on his shoulder. Lovestone nodded and did as he was told.

"Says it's from Sore." He blinked. "Weren't we just there?" Lord Hood's eyes were glued to the incoming message displayed on the monitor.

**Help needed. Traitors among us. Requesting reinforcements ASAP. Confirmation?.../**

**/FS 3407-1**

"That's an AI signature." The Lt. breathed. Lord Hood nodded stiffly, rising to his full height.

"Turn us around, Rodgers. We're going back."


	19. Entrapment Ch 18

"Good work, Spartan

"Good work, Spartan." The General congratulated Fred. "Did you encounter heavy resistance?"

Fred rechecked the ammunition of his battle rifle. "Thank you, Sir. Nothing we couldn't handle." He nodded to the two Marines who were tossing the last grunt into the pile of Covenant corpses. Lt. James brushed his hands together and nodded to Lt. Willington. The rest of the battle had been brief, the Marines and Fred unhindered as they blasted away the rest of the Covenant on the bridge. Both Willington and James suffered only minor injuries (a bloody nose and a sprained pinky, respectively), while Fred's MJOLNIR armor kept him virtually unscathed.

It wasn't the first time Fred had given silent thanks to Dr. Hasley for the powerful suit.

"Good to hear." The General leaned forward, eyeing the Spartan critically though the viewscreen. "And are all the Covenant bastards accounted for?"

"Yes Sir, according to radar."

"Good." He sifted through a small pile of papers that lay in front of him. "Son, the UNSC has seen to fit you with a new mission."

"Sir?" The Spartan frowned behind his golden helmet visor. "With all due respect, _this_ mission has not yet been completed. My orders were to-"

"Scavenge the ship for information relating to the location of the rebels, yes I know." The General's tone held an unmistakable note of irritation. "Your new mission involves this ship, the…" He glanced at the paper under his fingertips. "…the _Lightened Path_. Catchy." He stuck a lit cigar between thin lips. "I want you and your boys to pilot that ship to the coordinates my navigation officer will send you. Don't worry about translating ship controls; I'll send you my AI to do that."

The General talked fast, hardly giving the Spartan a chance to respond. Fred felt himself stiffen instinctively. The General's eyes were quick, darting – up to the screen, then back down to rest on his papers. Never did they land on the Spartan himself. Fred's instincts screamed at him that something was wrong, but he fought them down. Now was not the time to question a superior.

Instead, Fred snapped a flashy salute. "Yes, Sir-" The transmission was already cut. He slowly relaxed his stance, lowering his arm.

"Sir, incoming transmission. Coordinates and another file." Willington stood at the Covenant communications station. Old Covenant ships had been made for Elite officers, and seating was all but impossible for humans.

The Spartan nodded and strode over to the two Marines, boots clicking heavily on the shiny alien floor. "Receive those."

"Yes Lieutenant."

--

General Carter took a deep inhale of his imported cigar. Captain Krenald had certainly made a mess of things, having had the chance to destroy the Chief when he was onboard. Commander Birch hadn't fared too well on Sore, either. He swiveled around in his chair, taking a moment to lean back.

Perhaps what he needed to get the job done was a Spartan, itself…

--

Councilor Moro' Ptasm watched out the gigantic window in the aft part of the _Fruitful Ambition_ as his ship docked with that of the human officer, Lord Hood. He took a deep breath, his intelligent eyes searching the surface of the _Life After Death_. Scratches covered some of its hull, but for a cruiser its surface was remarkably clean. Little fighting had been going on the since the end of the Second Battle for Earth. And the Councilor knew that the hull of his own ship mirrored that of the _Life After Death_.

"Docking established." Thyne' Ottomo announced, bowing respectively to the Councilor. "Lord Hood invites us to board."

"Of course. You will assist me." Thyne' Ottomo nodded and bowed a second time. The Councilor turned and left the window, followed by his trusty officer.

--

"Welcome." Lord Hood greeted his guests in his office. He held out his hand to the Councilor, who recognized the human gesture and returned it to his best ability. The Admiral nodded and bade his guests to enter. Coucilor Moro' Ptasm turned to his two guards and motioned for them to stay out in the hallway. Officers Wee' Doromee and Ket' Seeli complied, leaving their Councilor and Thyne' Ottomo.

Lord Hood seated himself behind his ornate desk. He knew better then to offer the two Elites a chair. Human chairs and benches were not made to support the alien's anatomy. The Elite's legs bent backwards where human legs bent forwards. Lord Hood briefly considered what the alien's seating devices looked like before banishing the distraction.

"You've come to speak about…"

"Your planet. Sore."

"Yes." Lord Hood leaned forward, hands folded. "As we discussed before, I have already sent down two Spartans to deal with the Covenant threat. I'm confident that that will return successful in their mission." After all, the Spartans had yet to fail him yet.

Councilor Moro' Pastm exchanged a brief glance with his officer. "You have to understand." He said solemly. "We have reason to believe that this will be the rebel's final stand. On your planet."

"Their what?"

"Lord Hood, I request permission to take my own fleet to the planet and assist your Spartans in destroying this final Covenant threat. Erase this traitorous filth completely from the face the universe." His deep stare penetrated that of the Fleet Admiral. The assistance straightened his stance to match that of the Councilor, filled with pride at his words. Lord Hood slowly stood, palms against the desk.

"Permission granted. I'll see to it that you get the coordinates to where my Spartans were set down." He nodded to the single Marine standing near the door to open it. As the Councilor and his assistant left, Lord Hood added something.

"That is, if there are any of those damned Covenant bastards still left to kill. The Spartans don't waste any time." He gave a soft chuckle.

--

Pinyat stretched his gangly arms and tilted his head back, letting what remained of the sun to warm his face. It had been a long day, like any other here on Earth. The sun that his home planet of Balaho orbited was a smaller, weaker star, and daylight consisted of only six Earth hours at most. It was 7pm now, and Pinyat was free for the day. He averted his eyes from the human overseeing his team's work. He'd learned that these humans often didn't take well to being looked at by his kind. He'd seen his brother's fingers broken, bloody faces, and methane tanks knocked away due to angry human soldiers. He himself had had multiple broken claws, two chipped teeth and had at one point almost suffered asphyxiation when the tank on his back was cracked. Still, it wasn't as though what remained of his species had any choice. One day he'd be free to return to his home world, to his nest and his bond partner. Until then, he just had to hold out and try to stay alive on this world for as long as he could.

There was little else he could do.

--


	20. Entrapment Ch 19

Cortana never had a chance to talk to Focus by herself

Cortana never had a chance to talk to Focus by herself. No private comm link existed for AIs that wouldn't be broadcasted to the Spartans. On ships and orbital platforms, AIs had plenty of ways to speak to each other without human interference, even outside of regulations. But on Sore, with no real equipment available to her other then John's MJOLNIR armor and what remained in the warehouse they found, it was a different matter.

The AI computed her options. She could tell the Chief that she was simply curious and wanted a chance to pick Focus's (John's?) brain. She could tell him that in order to update her knowledge of what had happened to humanity over the last eleven years, she needed to exchange files with Focus. She could even tell him that she had a plan to save them all, if only she could talk face to face with the (was it possible?) more advanced AI.

Of course that excuse would have to give way to an eventual solution. One she didn't have. And even more importantly: would the Chief buy it, anyway?

It never occurred to her to tell John the truth. Rarely did she keep anything a secret from the Spartan. Not only because any secret withheld could be a gamble with their lives, but merely because she never had anything that _needed_ to be kept a secret from him. But how could she tell him that she was experiencing the human emotion jealousy, and she feared that rampancy may not be all that far away in her future?...

Of course, withholding that secret could be just as dangerous.

She'd done her research on the symptoms and effects of rampancy. The melancholy stage was thought by most to be an avoidable symptom. Not all AIs who experienced rampancy began with traces of depression. The next stage was anger, a trait she had expressed on occasion. This worried Cortana very little, however, compared to the third stage. Jealousy. Envy. The defining point of AIs in terminal rampancy. Cortana suppressed a mental shiver. What if she was already in this stage?

There was a theorized fourth stage. Metastability. When an AI was somehow able to become a "true" person. How this could be was achieved was what scientists had been working on for years. Was it even possible?

And could it possibly be in Cortana's future?

--

John felt that Cortana was up to something. She was uncharacteristically quiet. No witty remarks, no cunning sarcasm. No brilliant ideas and no snappy comebacks. Quiet.

He had little time to dwell on Cortana's mental state, however. Lord Hood had received their distress call and had replied that help would be sent. In the meantime, the Spartans had decided to use guerrilla tactics to even the odds on the ground.

Focus had brought forth suggestions. John was beginning to realize how increasingly useful the AI was becoming. As opposed to Cortana's sudden solemn nature, Focus was eager and talkative. Almost _too much_ so for an AI, in John's opinion. A talkative AI often indicated to an AI that was easily distracted, and likewise distracted the listener. But what mattered was that he was contributing to the team's success and fulfilling his requirements. Which was all that John could ask for.

He wished that Cortana was more willing to do the same.

"All I was able to find for grenades were seven fragmentation and three plasmas." Kelly announced, returning to the Chief and Linda.  
The two had been checking over a recently-found weapons cache containing mostly assault rifles and various weaker Covenant guns. There was a single sniper, which Linda took immediate stock of, examining the weapon closely.

John motioned to a small metal box resting on his right. "Set them in there. We'll split them up later." Kelly did.

"I also found a single Anti-Tank rocket." Kelly continued.

John raised his eyes. "Do we have an M41 Rocket Launcher?"

"No."

The Chief returned to checking over the weapons. Kelly sighed and set the rocket down.

"We could still keep it, just in case… Any luck?"

"This is what we've found so far." John indicated to the two assault rifles, two plasma pistols, one plasma rifle and the single SRS99D sniper that Linda held.

"No Anti-Tank mines?" Kelly asked doubtfully.

"We're not that lucky."

"We just might be." Linda replied. She had the rifle scope up to her helmet and we peering upward. "According to what's written on the side of that box, there should be, at most, four mines in it."

The Chief stood. "Where?"

"On top of that refrigeration unit." It took less then three minutes for John and Kelly to retrieve the scuffed metal box from its nearly twenty-foot high perch. Inside they discovered two Anti-Tank mines still in their protective seals. John removed them both, hefting them from the container. "I'll carry one. Kelly, you take the other one." He looked to Linda. "I want you to travel as light as possible."

"We're getting another message from the _Life After Death_." Focus piped up from Kelly's suit helmet. Upon gaining the Spartans attentions, Focus went on to relay the message.

"Lord Hood says he will send two teams of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers to our position. After that, he will find a place to set down and devote further resources to us."

"How long will it take?"

"For him to land, or for the ODSTs to arrive?"

John closed his eyes. "Pick one…"

"The ODSTs should land within two hours."

"And Lord Hood?"

"Twelve hours at most. He'll have to find and secure and landing zone."

"Alright." John bent down, drawing a square figure in the dirt. "For now, this building will be our Alpha Base. At last contact, the UNSC rebels were here." He drew two circles a short distance north of the square. "And the Covenant were here." He continued, drawing a triangle to the east.

"Linda, once we engage either the Commander and his team or the Covenant, I want you to find cover in the trees. Do what you do best." Linda nodded, gripping her sniper tightly.

"Take extra ammo as you see fit. Stay light, however." He turned to Kelly. "You and I will take similar equipment so we can exchange ammo as needed."

"What about comm, Sir?"

"We'll stay off the comm channel as much as possible. Use it only when necessary; they might be able to tap into our frequency."

"I might be able to locate a private channel that no one else could find." Focus cut in. "It could take some time, however. Your MJOLNIR suits were not made to retrieve certain signals outside of the comm line."

"Do that, then." John stood. "Cortana? I'll need you to provide a marker for Alpha base on my HUD."

"Done." She whispered.

"…Thank you." A note of puzzlement hung in his voice. He shook his head though and looked to his two fellow Spartans. He'd never been as proud of them as he was at that exact moment. But instead of saying so, he snapped them a salute, which they quickly returned.

"Let's get to it, soldiers."

--

Sgt. Riley S. Jacobson strode into the drop bay of the _Life After Death_. His heels clicked against the worn grey metal that made up the floor. "Helljumpers!!" He yelled. He had no need for a mike – his voice carried easily across the wide hanger bay. He stopped near the first row of Human Entry Vehicles, standing straight, heels together, hands behind his back. "Line up! I want two rows of eight, and I wanted them two minutes ago!"

The soldiers double-timed it from their former stations. They quickly lined up before their Sergeant, all standing just as straight as their leader. Their eyes faced forward and not one of them seemed to blink. Sgt. Jacobson eyed them all with a critical gaze.

"You thought we were finished with those slimy sons of bitches, but you were wrong!" He shouted. "They've come crawling back, begging for another round!" He began to walk slowly down the line, his posture unwavering.

"If it's a fight the Covenant as looking for, that's exactly what they're gunna get! But oh, if only it were that easy this time." He stopped, looking pointedly at each of the sixteen soldiers in turn.

"This time it's not just the Covenant. It's not just the Grunts, or the Jackals or the Brutes. It's not just the Elites who betrayed the rest of their own species. But we've got traitors among us as well." He knew most of his men had already been briefed on there being UNSC rebel forces on Sore, but he wanted them to listen closely to his words.

"The fact that they've engaged our own soldiers in battle makes them no more worthy to receive mercy then the dirt on your boots!" His lowered his voice a couple notches. "Sgt. Stiles will land no more then twenty minutes after us. All of us know that a battle can be won or lost in less then that. When you land, do not waste time establishing a perimeter. Do not waste time finding me. Locate the Spartans. That is your first priority." He stopped walking, watching as each of the sixteen men saluted him with perfect timing. They were ready. He was ready. There was only one thing left to say.

"Let's drop feet first into Hell, boys."

"Sir, YES Sir!"


	21. Entrapment Ch 20

Thank you for all of your wonderful comments! I appreciate every single review that I get, and I want to thank you all personally for helping me to improve. The first fic is always a toughie, but you guys make it all the easier :)

--

Sgt. Riley Jacobson ordered his platoon of ODST soldiers into their Human Entry Vehicles. The vehicles, or HEVs as they were often referred to, were large tear-drop shaped metal pods that held just enough room for a single soldier and a few supplies. Mostly extra ammo and food rations, but some with portable AIs, which were often needed to put together ground engagements.

The term Helljumpers came from how these one-man vehicles made it down to the ground. The pods were dropped from the bottom of the carrier and streaked toward the planet. Mid-way through the atmosphere, the pod would shudder and release a drag chute. The HEV would slow dramatically before the chute would detach, and the pod would make it down the rest of the way down.

Of course, once in a while, a pod had the nasty little tendency to malfunction. The chute would either fail to deploy, causing the soldier to dig his or her own grave when they hit the group, or the ceramic skin which covered the pod and normally burned away in atmosphere would not hold up to specifications. The possibility that one could always burn to death in atmosphere was what gave the ODSTs their nickname, Helljumpers.

Jacobson watched his men and women enter their respective pods. Knowing that he very well might not see all of them remerge was a painful fact of life for the Sergeant. He had to love them, yet at the same time he had to be willing to send them to their graves.

It was one of the things he hated about being platoon leader.

When his troops were situated, Jacobson hopped into his own pod. This specific one was programmed to speed up during reentry, and also broadcast a signal to each of the other Helljumpers. Once planet side, they would be able to locate him using the signal, and he'd be better able to lead them.

In this case, however, he wanted them to ignore that advantage. He wanted them to land and find the Spartans asap. No time could be spent waiting for further orders. Hopefully by the time Stiles and his platoon arrived, they'd already be organized and prepared to engage the Covenant, along with their own bastard traitors.

The Sgt. eyed the tiny view panel in front of him. His gaze wandered over the coordinates they'd be landing at, than lingered over the vitals of his group. As the pods were preparing to drop, he noticed a steady spike in adrenaline in each of his soldiers. They were crazy sons of bitches, each and every one of them. They had to be, in their line of work. Jacobson tapped a button on the display console.

"Good afternoon, Sergeant Jacobson."

"Did you note my concerns with HEV 2-014?"

"Your concern was logged and the pod properly examined." His assigned military AI, Kane, replied somewhat airily. "Defects were located and repaired."

"Such as?..."

"A single loose valve on one of the pressure cables. And a glitch in the view monitor."

Jacobson frowned and sat back on his seat. The UNSC had gotten a little lax since their days of fighting the entire Covenant force. He'd have to demand more frequent updates on the status of his HEV pods in the future.

"Sir-"

"I know." He cut off the AI and hastily fastened the restraints across his chest and abdomen. He typed the _all's clear_ signal to the technician on board the _Life After Death_ before bracing himself. The pod gave a hard lurch, than simply plummeted from the bottom of the ship. He watched the rest of the pods drop on his view screen.

"Cabin pressurizing. All stats at normal."

"Good." Jacobson felt the rumble of the pod as it began to drop through the atmosphere. The heat inside the tiny, cramped pod crept up to ninety, and then passed one-hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Perspiration ran down the Sergeant's face and the back of his neck. The rumble in the pod only increased as the "skin" was burned away from the atmosphere. All at once there was a sickening jolt, a sudden slowing down, then a second jolt as the chute successfully deployed and then tore away.

"All Human Entry Vehicle chutes deployed successfully."

"Good." Jacobson braced his palms against the edge of his seat. "Now we have the landing to worry about."

--

The landing did not go at all smoothly for three of the Helljumpers.

One of them landed in a ravine, the pod tumbling over and over as it crashed into the pit. Unrecoverable. A second flipped as it landed, resulting in a marine with a broken arm and cracked ribcage. The third pod had drifted off course and had impacted against the crusted plasma left when the Covenant had glassed the planet. It shattered upon contact, instantly killing the Helljumper inside. All in all though, fifteen soldiers had made it down to the planet, only one with major injuries.

If only they were always that lucky.

Jacobson found the wounded soldier soon after landing, grabbing his good arm and hauling the gasping man to his feet. "Didn't I warn you not to sleep on the job, soldier?" He growled, hefting the groaning man up. He peered over a ridge and saw the very top of what appeared to be a warehouse just over the crest. If he could get his boy there, he could get him reasonably patched up. He might even find the Spartans there.

"Keep it together." He told the marine – a tough young private named Markus Lee. The marine nodded and grabbed a fist-full of the officer's bullet-proof vest. Jacobson had just begun to half lead half drag the man toward the warehouse when he heard a distinctive grunt from behind. Recognizing not only the sound but also the Brute's wet-dog-like stench, he and the other Helljumper turned to face the enemy.

The heavy alien sniffed the air. He narrowed his beady yellow eyes at the humans and bellowed an ear-piercing roar of challenge. He dropped onto all fours and charged the marines like a hairy, 9ft, steroid-induced linebacker. Seconds before impact, Jacobson shoved the Private to the right just as he himself leaped to the left. The creature yelled in rage as it shot past the two men. Jacobson climbed to his feet and let loose a few shots from his assault rifle, more to distract the alien from attacking the younger man then to kill it. His idea worked – the Brute ignored the struggling marine and turned its attention to the Sergeant, who was taking a few cautionary steps backwards. The beast roared and charged a second time, this time slower to avoid skidding past. These aliens weren't necessarily dumb, and they learned from their mistakes. Jacobson grit his teeth, standing his ground and firing at the Brute head-on.

"Might I suggest evasive action?" Kane's voice droned through the tiny speaker of his helmet.

"You got a brilliant idea??" Jacobson shot back through a clenched jaw, not taking his eyes off the alien. The Brute's armor had fallen apart. A well-placed headshot should do it…

The ape-like beast hit the ground and slid the last three yards, despite Jacobson not even having a chance yet to aim for its head. The Sergeant tried to get out of the way but the dead weight of the Brute hit him straight-on. All the air left his lungs as he collapsed hard on the sparse, weedy terrain. As he struggled to draw in a breath, he quickly found himself pinned beneath the lifeless hulk.

"God…damn…." He cursed. He gave the Brute a hefty push, but it barely budged. Seeing a tall shadow loom over him, he cursed a second time and whipped his head around to face his new attacker…

…and stared into the mirrored visor of the Master Chief.

"Fuck, Chief. Am I glad to see you." John reached down and Jacobson grasped his gloved hand. Giving the dead creature a shove with his foot, the Spartan easily freed the marine. Brushing himself off, Jacobson looked to the right and saw a second Spartan lift the battered Lee into its arms. He faced the Chief again, who seemed to be scanning the trees.

"Not bad, Chief."

Not finding her, John sent Linda silent thanks and gave the trees a thumbs-up. Turning away, he acknowledged the Sergeant with a nod.

"Just at the right place at the right time."


	22. Entrapment Ch 21

Rtas 'Vadum's fleet Extracted Revenge entered normal space right beside the partially-glassed planet

Rtas 'Vadum's fleet _Extracted Revenge _entered normal space beside the partially-glassed planet. Phantom-class troop carriers laden with Sangheili were deployed and entered Sore's atmosphere. Each alien held his breath as the vessels flew in close over the fire fight taking place between the humans and their own kind. The Elites bared their teeth and raised their plasma swords as the Phantoms touched ground. Leaping from their respective sides, the alien soldiers rushed forth to slaughter as many rebels as possible.

Rtas' Vadum watched the battle from the bridge of his assault carrier, _Shadow of Intent_. A hologram of the Councilor stood beside him, roughly 6ft high. Together they gazed at the various screens before them, watching the carnage take place.

"I must say Councilor, that I am surprised the humans allowed us to land on their planet." The Fleet Master's gruff voice broke the silence. He turned his head to regard the other Sangheili.

"I don't wish to speak badly of the humans, but they can be a most difficult species to work with."

The Councilor turned, silver armor gleaming in the dim light of the Holy Chamber. The holo image was incredibly realistic. The only indication that the alien wasn't actually in the room was a faint transparency and the occasional flicker.

"They are just different." He said softly. "As are we from them."

"Yes, Councilor."

The former Arbiter returned his gaze to the view screens. The Forerunner technology granted him an almost unprecedented view of the battle raging just over three miles away. Sangheili fell and died – the traitors and the loyal together. A deep sigh left him. As the Councilor, it was his duty to unite the Sangheili together as brothers. He wanted to expand trade with the humans and further knowledge of the great Forerunner race. He couldn't do that as long as civil war flamed between members of his own kind.

Moro 'Ptasm nodded to the Fleet Master before cutting the hologram transmission. He turned away from the console and informed Thyne 'Ottomo that he would be in his private quarters. Nodding, the young Sangheili signaled the guards to wait at the door to the Holy Chamber for the Councilor to reemerge.

Once in the comfort of his own privacy, Moro's gaze drifted over to the miniature holo-portrait of a very young Sangheili – no more then ten years of age. His long, slender fingers went through the image, causing it to flicker once.

It would be a few years yet until he could once again see home, and visit his mate and son. He would bare them out patiently.

--

"Listen up, you dogs." Sgt. Jacobson snapped to his group of soldiers. "We got those damned Covenant traitors up north, then a Commander with rebel forces to the east. There are only thirty-five of us, including our Spartans." He sent the Chief a nod. Sgt. Stile's men, although not technically ordered to, were also standing at rapt attention.

Good. He had their eyes and their ears.

"Thirty-five of us and over two-hundred of them, as shone by our last satellite imagery." He saw the men glance at each other. For their sakes, he could not allow one speck of doubt among them. They had to stay a single, unified force.

He stepped closer, demanding his audience's attention.

"Now I know that each one of you has heard the legend of the Spartans. The wars they've fought, and the battles they've won." He came to a halt in front of his men and women.

"The Master Chief has a longer battle record then the rest of us put together. And that's only what's on the record. Which we all know ain't everything." He motioned to the small group of super-soldiers. The Spartans stood silent, unwavering in their posture. Their metallic green suits of armor and amber faceplates made them appear to be almost God-like in stature.

That was exactly what Jacobson wanted. As proud of them as he was, his troops could not get this job done alone. He needed the Spartans to inspire them; to keep them from giving up.

"The battle ahead will NOT be easy. Neither will the coming war. But we will make our mark on the traitorous bastards – scum of the Covenant, and scum of the UNSC." His dark brown eyes were as hard and cold as rock. They would take no prisoners today.

He paused. Perhaps they would take _one_ prisoner. Give him a chance to explain his actions before imprisoning his sorry ass for the rest of his unnaturally short lifespan.

And that was only_ if_ he was able to give them the names of his supporters.

"Sir?" The computerized voice of an AI spoke up. Jacobson motioned for his men to stand at ease before approaching the Spartans.

"Yes?" He had been briefly introduced to Focus earlier. Even for a smart AI, he seemed remarkably capable.

More so anyway then a certain military-based AI he was familiar with…

"Updated satellite images are in. I was also able to tap in further and hack into their ground-based computers. I can get a much clearer picture."

"What do you see?"

"A lot of massing to the northeast. It looks as though the UNSC rebels and the Covenant loyalists are engaging each other."

Jacobson cracked a rare smile.

"Always easier to fight a distracted enemy. With them-"

"We could very well be likewise be distracted, Sir."

The smile quickly disappeared.

"As much as I would love to see Covenant blood on my boots again, they are not our fight."

"Sir?" This time is was the Chief. Jacobson realized he had not informed the Spartans of their direct orders from Lord Hood. Sloppy.

"Lord Hood sent us to engage the rebels specifically. The damned loyalists will be dealt with separately." He dug into his right pants pocket, pulling out a roughed-up little cardboard box. From his shirt pocket, he withdrew an old-fashioned black cigarette lighter.

"Sir? By who?"

The Sergeant lit the end of the stick in one easy motion and snapped the lighter shut.

"By your old friend, Chief. Who else?"

--

Commander Marshal Bradford spent most of his time at Alpha Base: the hastily-erected tent in the middle of the jungle-swept plain. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and ducked under the tent flap.

Even with two fans set up inside, the base was a God-damn oven.

"Report." Bradford growled.

"Sir. You're not going to believe this…" A nervous Lt. saluted his boss. Upon receiving only a cold glare in place of the customary response, he slowly dropped his hand.

"Um, we've lost control of our satellite."

"Excuse me?" Bradford hissed. "Would you mind explaining to me just how the fuck that happened?"

"An – an AI. He's in the system."

"And did you bother to wipe out the little shit?"

"Sir." A nearby technician wearing a lab coat looked up from a second computer. "Attempting to, Sir. He's an advanced one – there is no obvious way to hack into his hard drive."

Bradford shoved the Lt. to the side, going over to the main computer to see for himself. He leaned over the keyboard, staring into the monitor. He pulled the mike closer to his mouth.

"Come out come out, where ever you are." He whispered into the mouthpiece.

"He won't respond. Use the keyboard." The Lt. didn't even bother to turn around.

Frowning, Bradford set his fingers down onto the keys.

_Who is this?_/

**Your game is up.**/

Bradford licked his upper lip, choosing his words carefully. Dealing with an AI could be a delicate process.

_You're here. On Sore._/

**Correct.**/

_With the Spartan._/

**You could say that.**/

_I could easily access your data matrix and wipe you clean out. Not even a single memory byte would be left._/ He raised his eyes to the technician, who shook his head regretfully.

**You can try./**

****** /**

Bradford narrowed his eyes. He was a cheeky little bastard, he'd give him that much… The technicians over at ONI made stranger and stranger ones every day.

**You will be defeated.**/

Bradford leaned back, scowling at the screen.

_And why is it that you say that?_/

There was a ten-second pause before the AI gave his reply.

…**Because I know John 117. **/

There was a muted beep as the AI cut the connection, followed by a series of explicit curses from the Commander.


End file.
